The Sacrifice Never Told
by TheFreak1407
Summary: Before the Winter Contingency was declared, silent screams preceded the Fall of Reach. The sweat, tears and blood shed by Reicher Platoon several days before the eve of the Invasion. Their pain was a pre-amble to this battle. Their actions stunted. Their voices silenced. This is their Sacrifice. The one that was never told.
1. Prologue, Chapters 01-02

_**Highly recommend playing thematic Halo music while reading, adds to the experience.**_

 **The Sacrifice Never Told**

 **Prologue**

"Message received, but not understood. Date received July 17th, 2552."

We had just touched down on our insertion point several hours back. The sound and fumes resonating behind the Falcons were long gone. The transmission we were meant to receive was too garbled to understand, so in short, we weren't getting much from Command. Last thing we heard was to "confirm whether the designated LZ was hot or not". Total bullshit. Honestly, this is something you send a forward recon team to do, not a single squad of marines. They didn't even give us ONE Warthog. ONE. That's all I would ask for, but Sarge wanted to do this clean and quiet. How is a squad of twelve supposed to trek 32 miles on foot?

"Sarge, why the hell did our Falcon drop us in miles away from our target zone? This ain't the usual run down, we makin' a detour on this op?" That's Daniels for ya. Only a Private First Class, but also the only one of us to voice what the entire squad is thinking. But all things considered, even Sarge had to be thinking the same as us. This isn't a regularity for Reicher Platoon, let alone any marine division for that matter.

"That is my concern and mine alone marine, just keep movin'. Hayward was clear with the orders and the briefing, we knew what we were getting into."

Odd. I get that he's our CO following orders, but I know for a fact that he thought this was fubar. But he's got his reasons, I'm sure.

* * *

 **01**

After a couple hours trekking a mountain, we were finally setting up camp to rest up. No one was sore, but we were tired, that was for sure. 8 miles walked, 24 to go. Hell, what I'd do for a Hog. I checked my watch; 01:32. Early morning huh? Usually we'd walk an hour or two longer but we did start at 1300. 12 hours would put a number on anybody, even ODST's. But hell, I won't complain.

"Hey, what are you doing? Stop dickin' around and pitch your tent. We don't need you freezing to death before the missions even close to being done." Ah, Victor. Bastard is always keeping me straight, but that's not a bad thing. I looked down and noticed that there was actually snow. It was numbing the bottoms of my feet, a detail I hadn't noticed due to the march we made.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm on it. Leave me alone Victor, I just zoned out."

"You say that all the time. You're gonna get shot because of it one day."

"By who? Rebels? Vic, the last time we got close to some action was months ago. It's just been patrols and shit stick guard duty back at the base, which isn't anywhere close to any known rebel establishments. So get off my ass."

"Alright, damn. Just get your tent up."

My tantrum wasn't exactly justified. He was only making sure I wouldn't freeze to death, but I guess this entire op is putting me on edge. Still doesn't make any sense to me. I started setting up my tent as I sorted things out. Why would Hayward make us check on an "LZ" that is 32 miles away from our insertion point? That's something a Falcon patrol could've easily investigated, no reason to send a single squad. It's God damned redundant if you ask me.

"Shit doesn't make sense…" I murmured. By the time I finished setting up the tent everyone was eating their rations. I didn't feel hungry, so I decided to wrap up and hit it. I can eat before we head out.

"Alright boys, 15 minutes left for chow then rest up. We leave at 0800, we gotta make it to the first checkpoint before 1900." Sarge announced.

"0800? Sir, where's the checkpoint?" a random marine asked.

"12 miles out, north east. It's an old resupply post set up by a Recon team a couple years back. Command wants us to re-establish the comms uplink there."

"Comm link? What the he- sir, the Insurrection is thousands of miles south of here, what reason would they need communication up here for?" A damned good question. I unwrapped my blanket and crawled out of the tent.

"Yeah, seriously boss, there's no reasonable logic behind it. We should just try to resupply and get a move on." I added.

"You're stepping your bounds marine, we do what we're told." Sarge turned his gaze toward me.

"Yeah bu-"

"You should listen to your commanding officer marine. Command gave you orders, you follow them." It's the first time I noticed her presence. She was obviously not one of us, and that's not just because she wasn't wearing the military fatigues. She was a blonde haired woman, green eyes, cute nose and a nice clean face. Too clean. Upon further inspection, she wore a grey coat that fit snugly onto her body, giving some definition to her bosom. Her pants gave a muffin top look to each leg as her black boots came up to her knees. On the left breast of her coat a grey and black pyramid with a whole in the center rested firmly on top, like a sigil demanding attention. She was ONI.

"Captain Miller, Intelligence Officer." She proclaimed. Mild British accent. She was from the Earth colonies, as far as I could tell. Last time I heard that dialect was from another ONI officer, from Earth as well. But that was the least peculiar thing about her, the better inquiry was why she was with us.

"Sarge, what's an office jockey doing with us?" I asked.

"Hey, you watch your to-"

"It's alright Sergeant. I know how UNSC feels about ONI agents, this wouldn't be the first time I've gotten lip." She looked at me with blank eyes, and a blank face to accompany it.

"I'm sure lip ain't the only thing that was given to you!" One of the marines hooted. A couple of them laughed, but it otherwise felt awkward.

"Mmm… yes, I'll let you stare. This is probably the only ass you've seen in years marine. Savor it." The entire company gave the whole "ohhh" treatment. The marine that gave the previous statement hunkered down in his spot, relatively shamed. But he continued to look at her from time to time.

"Alright that's enough! Get some damn shut eye, we've wasted enough time already!" Everyone agreed to that much, crawling inside their tents. I slid back inside, just about ready to crash.

"Hey, scoot over damn it, you're takin' up the entire roll." I looked at the tents entrance; it was Hitch. He's what you'd call my gun buddy, something Reicher Platoon made up. Any time you move out alone, have a chore or have a place to sleep, you do it with your gun buddy. We didn't really have that much of a special relationship, but then again I never made much of an effort to bond with him.

"Oh, yeah. My bad man." I rolled to the left giving him some room. As he lay down next to me I closed my eyes, ready to shut down.

"This shit is fubar man. Op doesn't make sense. ONI's here. What the hell." He remarked.

God dammit.

"Yeah…" I yawned, "Let's just sleep it off."

"I'm tellin' you, something ain't right."

"Mmhmm…" I was getting a bit annoyed.

"I should go ask Sar-"

"Hitch."

"Yeah?"

"Shut the hell up."

"Oh… sorry." Finally. Some sleep.

* * *

 **02**

It was 0730 when I got up. That was my standard routine, get up 30 minutes before rise time to do a gear check and take care of my business. It's a good thing too, since I never got yelled at by Sarge to "get the fuck up" as he would say every morning.

As I finished my business I found a rock to sit on and picked up my DMR. Standard maintenance is never a bad thing. I started to take it apart, with significant care. Each piece lined up in front of me, like military role call. After a few minutes, Daniels came to sit next to me, sniper tucked to his side. He looked asleep, a consequence of his squinty eyes, but he was wide awake. He began doping his scope on his sniper rifle.

"Sup Daniels."

"Hey bud. Just uhh, checkin' my optics. For God knows what reason."

"Mmhmm. I hear that." I looked off the cliff, and that's when I absorbed the scenery that surrounded us. It was warm and serene, but gave an empty feeling as you stared. The sun was just rising, so the shine it gave off the beach was quite a spectacle. The Cliffside we were on was facing the eastern side toward the coast, so you could see all the vibrant colors the waking sun had to offer.

Towards the base of the mountain was a lush, pseudo-tropical, mossy forest complete with trees, rocks and other denizens you'd find in a land of green. Further down you'd reach the beach. Nice dark sand with even darker waters brushing up and down. The suns reflection creeped down the "middle" of the ocean, giving a weird blue tint to the atmosphere. It was weird, back on Earth there would be a lot of fog. But here on Reach, there was none of the sort.

"What do you think of the op?" I was startled. Having looked off for so long, I forgot there was another person beside me.

"Me? Huh. I don't know. Odd. Weird. Not normal, to say the least. The things were doing, objectives and such. Doesn't add up." I didn't want to say everything I thought. Usually when I spoke to Daniels I liked to maintain an "educated" way of talking, composed you could say. Saying that this whole thing is "stupid as shit" isn't exactly professional.

"You?"

"I think this whole thing is stupid as shit." He said. Well damn, I should've said it first.

"Comms link? Out here? ONI? What the hell. We should be down south, killing insurrectionists, not doing useless shit. And since SHE is here, this is probably some stupid errand that Hayward was forced to do under orders from ONI. Best case scenario, it's a surveillance op and we're being underhanded as body guards."

"And the worst case scenario?" I asked.

"We see purple." He had a brief grim look on his face, but it reverted back to a blank stature as he returned to servicing his rifle. Seeing purple huh? If it weren't for my better judgement, I'd try to refute him. But he was probably right. Daniels was a bright soldier, always speculating, always thinking. The gears in his head never ceased to move, and the moment they do would be when a bullet frameshifts his brain matter. If it wasn't for the terrorist attacks at New Carthage, he'd be in school right now studying for something useful in his life. Not being this squad's sniper, aiming at nothing.

"Ooh-rah…" As I finished reassembling my DMR, I got up and went back to the tent. Hitch was already packing it up, so all I had to do was put my plating and back pack on. When I wrapped up re-quipping all my gear, that's when it happened. A giant loud noise shook the earth and sky. A bright blue and purple flash lit up the dark grey clouds over the waters. Everyone cocked their weapons, aiming at different places and directions. I looked at the cliffs edge, Captain Miller was standing alongside the perch, staring at the clouds. As I ran up to her side, rifle pointed at the forest, I looked at her face. Blank as usual, but her eyes. Her green eyes said that she had an idea of what was going on. Over the bustle and hustle of the other marines, I asked her:

"What the hell was that? The fuck is going on here?" After a minute she stopped looking at the sky and pulled out an electronic tablet out of her pack. It was an IAR; Info Assistance Relay device. She started tapping and swiping away at it. Blue and red images came and left the screen as she fussed around very quickly. For a split second I saw the title of one of the files:

COVEN-

She then noticed I was right next to her, consequentially putting the tablet away with haste and turned to address me.

"I'm, uh, sorry about that marine. What was it- did you ask me something?" Her brows were furrowed as she looked at me. What was on that tablet…?

"Yeah, I asked you what the hell is going on. You seem to know something." I accused with a stern voice. This didn't impress her.

"That was… nothing. An electro storm. Common in the northern parts of Reach. You know, satellite relays and such. Affecting the weather." She spoke briskly, avoiding the topic was obviously her objective here.

"Electro storms? What? We've been posted in the northern parts of Reach for months, THAT is not a common thi-"

"You have obviously not come north enough to see such a phenomenon." She then walked away towards camp. It seems that everyone has started to calm down.

"Electro storms…" I looked off into the clouds. "Yeah. Maybe." I started to get into formation. "I bet the rebels want to hug and kiss us too."

* * *

As the squad arrived at the base of the mountain, Sarge stood atop an oddly shaped rock, his awkward footing confirming its deformities. He ordered us to gather around him to receive new orders.

"Alright marines, it's already 1000 and we've barely broken a mile. We gotta put in a bit of a hustle, so we gon' move along the tree line by the coast. We'll follow that for a couple then trek back into the hills to reach the checkpoint. Clear and simple, any bitching?" Everyone Ooh-ra'd.

"Good. We're burning daylight, let's get moving marines."

And so we marched. It took about two hours to reach the tree line. After a 15 minute break we started walking again. Just by looking at the other marines, you could tell they were still shaken up by the loud ass noise we heard a while back. Who wouldn't be? Considering that these were new transfer troops as well, they'd probably never even heard their rifles before. One of them started to pace by my side, looking up at the sky while we walked. She was on the smaller side, shorter than the rest of us, but by the way she walked you could tell she did well in boot camp.

"Hey uhh… you ever seen or heard something like that before?" She took off her blast goggles to get a better look at me as we walked. I took off my helmet to give my head some air.

"Heh. Loud noises? Sure. Grenades, rockets, Scorpions, you name it. But like that? Nah. That's something new to all of us."

"R-really? Think it's rebels?"

"Rebels? Hell no. They can barely get their hands on Warthogs with Gauss Cannons. Something that big, no way it could be them." It's not like I didn't think it was a possibility. But those lights. The blue and purple. There's no way it's them.

"Think it's the Cov-"

"No," Victor interrupted sternly as he walked over to us, "we all know that Reach is out of the way. There's no reason for any extraterrestrial force to be interested in this planet, so just rule it out." Oh yeah… I had forgotten. Victor, one of the longest members in the platoon, was shipped here from Arcadia as a Specialist, Grade 1. His home town on the planet was decimated, or glassed if I dare say it, by Covenant only a few years ago. Reports he'd received about the planet's situation were grim at best, and condemning at worst. Among other things, his little sister was killed in the attack. Anyone would be hard pressed with persecution if they were to not advocate his anger. His hatred for Covenant was evident with just one look at him. His eyes were hard as he looked at us.

"Calm it down Vic, she's just makin' a couple assumptions, didn't mean anything by it." He grumbled and walked away. "But… that's not too far off. I guess they could be a possibility… but this close?"

"There's no reason to have such thoughts marine. ONI keeps a tight leash on these matters, Covenant presence is both highly unlikely and unreasonable, I assure you. UNSC is doing a good job keeping them where they are." Miller said. Huh… is that what I saw on her tablet? Covenant?

"Just keep your eyes sharp marine, you're a soldier. No need to speculate now that I've laid the truth out for you." She spoke sharply. What a bitch. But her rank prevents me from giving her a strawman attack. The Chain of Command, a chain and ball indeed.

"Yes ma'am." I nodded. "Ya bitch…" I mumbled, then trodded on.

As I walked I scanned the surroundings. Green. Just, a lot of green. Not much to look at, which is further reason to believe this entire op makes no sense. There is literally nothing out here, just that out post apparently, which I have never actually heard of. What was it even called? And what recon team? Hell, there isn't much that goes on in the north, we'd have definitely known about things established within the last year or two. I looked up ahead and saw that Sarge and Miller had both takin' a considerable distance ahead of the squad. They were discussing something, something they obviously don't want us to know about. Maybe I should close in, try to get some info.

I started for them but a sudden sound startled me and the rest of the squad. It came from the sky, accompanied by an object flying fast and hard right over us. It was only for a split second, but I know I saw purple. Everyone's guns started aiming upwards.

"Eyes up, eyes up! What the fuck was that!?" A marine shouted. A couple others took positions at the base of a tree, two took cover at a rock. I shuffled in place, unsure of what to do. It wasn't often that we met contacts that were flying in the air. I saw Daniels sprinting for the beach, rifle shouldered. I looked around and saw Hitch crouched next to another marine.

"Hitch! On me, Daniels is goin' out alone!" I waved him to me then started for the beach behind Daniels. Hitch nodded and fell behind a couple feet, Victor also following him. As we closed in on Daniels, I waved two fingers to the right, signaling Hitch and Victor. I glanced backwards and saw both of them breaking off as a pair, mud and sticks flying behind them.

By the time I reached Daniels he was already scoped in the direction of the flying object, standing tall, and his rifle scanning the mountains.

"Got anything?" I panted. His breathing was hurried, but steadied, a niche for snipers. For at least a minute he was silent, after which he lowered his rifle and crouched, looking at the dirt.

"Nothing. Only air streaks, whatever the hell that was its gone now. But I've never heard something like that before.

"What do you mean?"

"It wasn't the sound of an engine, it was like a whine. Loud but streamlined, I don't know. It was weird." He had a hard expression on his face as he looked at the mountains. "Go tell Sarge what I saw.

"You got it." I ran into the forest, looking for Sarge.

* * *

"So you have NO idea what the hell that was?" Victor spoke with aggression. He was mad, and he decided to take it out on Miller.

"No, I don't. And even if I did, it's none of your concern Sergeant."

"Bullshit, you know something grey coat, don't even lie to us." One of the marines remarked. His voice was angry, but one look at him and you could tell he was scared. You could see he was literally shaking in his mud caked boots, his helmet resting on the floor next to them. Sweat dripped down his shaved head and onto his frightened face. His mouth twitched and fore head wrinkled.

"You're getting out of line marine, calm yourself down." Sarge ordered, but you could see he felt the same way. His visage had a concerned look, like one a father would have if his kid was doing something stupid. At this point it was obvious that he knew something, but nothing beyond what Miller knew. Being kept in the dark was something Reicher Platoon was accustomed to, we were used to it, but nothing like this. The op itself was already uncanny, but all this shit confirmed that this was fubar.

"Look, you and your squad were given orders Sergeant. You WILL follow them and stop asking these questions. This is getting us nowhere and it's already almost sun down. We still have a couple miles until the outpost, no? I suggest we get a move on." Every marine in the squad gave her the evil eye, Victor having the most malicious intent.

"That puta is gonna get us killed, I can feel it." He snarled.

"Let's just get moving Vic. If we're gonna die, I at least wanna put up a fight. The outpost will give us a good foothold against whatever the hell "might" be killing us." Everyone began lining up and started marching single file, Daniels coming up last. I stood off to the side, observing everyone. Miller stood to the right of the line, watching every marine that walked by, taking notes with those empty green eyes. She gave me a sharp look and snapped her head in the direction of the line.

"Y-yes ma'am." I fell into formation, Victor behind me.

"I didn't say that something is gonna kill us. **She** is gonna kill us." I turned my head towards him.

"Heh. At least I'll get taken down by a good lookin' broad."

8


	2. Chapter 03

**03**

We fell a good two hours behind schedule, having reached the outpost by 2100. The compound was a decent size, maybe five thousand square feet, nothing grand. The outpost itself took shelter within a cavern like area, rocks surrounding the compound except for the front and no rocky roof to make it an actual cave. The most notable structure of the post was the over watch tower that stood well above the rocky walls that protected the base, watching over the land like a guardian. Atop the tower lay a satellite relay with metal tubing connected to it, snaking along the front side of the tower. Small pockets opened on multiple sides of the tower offering small gunner positions. The squad reached the gates of the compound.

"This outpost is a year old? Looks damn ancient." Daniels observed. He wasn't wrong, the gates looked pretty rugged. Not rusted, but beat up by time. A large metal sign was pinned to the concrete wall, the top left bolt missing.

 **Bushdog – FR: 71 – Outpost**

 **Est. January 6, 2551**

"The hell's a bushdog?" A marine asked.

"It's an animal. It can run backwards, pretty fast too." I answered.

"Literal definition of a bitch." Hitch laughed. A chuckle left my mouth as well.

"Doesn't look like the powers functional. It's only been one year, how can functionality be so shit? And why is there no one here?" Daniels said. He and I looked at Sarge.

"That's a damned good question. Hayward said some marines would be awaiting us here, I don't understand." Sarge was visibly deterred.

"Maybe they extracted?" I suggested.

"Not possible Corporal, those Falcons woulda come from our HQ."

"Well then is this a Search and Rescue? Why didn't command just say so?" Victor complained.

"Because it's not," Miller interjected, "Sergeant we need to get the power functional, or the gates at least." Sarge waved two marines to investigate the right side of the base. He looked at me.

"Take Hitch and go check the left, there's probably a way in there." I nodded in reply and went to retrieve Hitch. I found him sitting on a rock facing the forest, zoned out while smoking a cigarette. I tapped his shoulder.

"Hey, come on, we got some Sherlockin' to do."

"We got what to do?" Hitch isn't from the Earth colonies, and never read any books for that matter either.

"Never mind, just let's go, we gotta find a way into the compound."

"Tch. I just lit this shit." He stamped it out on the dirt. The little sparks flew from the lit end and then died out completely on the mud.

"You coulda smoked that while walking." He thought about it for a second, looked at me, and then scowled.

"God dammit…" Hitch and I then started westward, to the end of the walls.

A few minutes into our patrol we could already tell this was going nowhere, no way inside was going to be found. But what we did find was quite peculiar: footprints. Quite odd footprints, comparable to a deer you'd find back on Earth, only much, much larger. From what I could tell there were three of them, one of which led straight to the concrete wall but then disappeared, almost as if it went straight through the wall. There was no way it could jump over, the wall was at least fifteen feet tall. As for the other two prints, they fused into a bunch of shifted mud making it impossible to follow them properly.

"Gah, this was a waste of time. All we found were some stupid animal tracks." Hitch complained. I scanned further until something caught my eye for a split second. It was like… a shimmer. It cut the air, like looking through a bubble, except this was a specific spot. I lost track of it almost immediately, but an uncanny feeling swept over me. It felt like eyes were piercing into my skull, with malicious intent. It was primal, almost.

"Well… I don't know. These tracks could tell us something." I kept my eyes sharp, scanning the environment around us.

"Like what? Things live on this planet?"

"Ah, shut up. Let's get back to Sarge and report what we found."

"Yeah, sure. 'Hey, we found nothing!', cause that'll be useful."

"Well what else are we gonna fuckin' say?" He led the way back to the gates, grumbling to himself. I guess he was pretty upset he couldn't finish his cigarette.

* * *

As we walked back, I noticed that everything felt tense. I looked around and saw that everyone had taken up positions, weapons readied or aimed at the walls right side end. Daniels had taken up a position farthest back of the group, sniper scanning the area. Victor took up his left side, assault rifle focused where everyone was aiming. Noticing us, he ran over, still focusing on the wall.

"What the hell is going on?" I asked. After a few seconds, he finally turned his head to me.

"It's Sixes and Maki." He pointed at a marine who was laying on the floor, clutching their stomach. Our field medic was tending to her.

"What about them, what happened?"

"Well, as you can tell, Sixes isn't back. She returned to us running with no weapon in hand, something had disarmed her."

"Then where the hell is Six- who the hell is that anyway?" I should mention that I'm pretty bad at keeping tabs on my other squad mates. Aside from, you know, Daniels, Victor and Hitch.

"Sixes, you know, the guy who lost a finger on one of hi- look that's not important! Something happened to him, and the rest of these guys are scared shitless. Apparently someone heard some chupacabra like shit and now everyone's seeing ghosts." It was odd. His face was both amused and mad. He was always a bit of a sadist and found joy in seeing fear in the new squad mates. Fresh green armor was a staple of transfers, so he knew when he found someone to pick on. It should be noted, seven out of twelve of all of us are transfers, the rest being vets.

"Sarge hasn't sent anyone yet?"

"He would have but that dumb puta won't let him. 'I need to think' she says. What the hell is there to think about…" He retorted, jogging back to Daniels' side. I scanned the AO, finding Sarge standing near the gate next to Miller. He had his hand cradling his forehead, like what you'd see when a father is disappointed in his kid. I headed over to investigate the quarrel he was having. This should be good.

"Woman, you may out rank me as a grey coat but we are on the damn field. Someone's missing and I intend to get that person back." Sarge was getting impatient.

"I do not advise that Sergeant, we need to assess the situation and-"

"Consider this shit assessed," he looked at me and smiled, "Good. Get Hitch and gather your gear, you're movin' in with Vic."

"Wait, sir, what the hell happened? It's only been a good half hour, maybe he was investigating something." Despite what was happening, even I thought Sarge's decisions were being made in haste.

"Did you not see Maki? All you need to know is that Sixer is missing and you are gonna find him. The rest of us will hold the fort down here and try to radio in HQ."

"Yeah, that ain't gonna happen Sarge, all I got is static, static and more static. If I'm gonna make contact we gotta reposition." Zet, our radio operator, was fiddling with some dials, real focused like. To be honest I'd never actually seen our radio man until now, but all things considered it has never been my concern. Comms aren't my specialty. Not because I couldn't work a radio, but because I swear to hell that every God-damned transmission is garbled, incomprehensible shit.

"Boss, I bet if we got Zet to the tower he could probably establish a better connection."

"Under other circumstances, that would be a good idea Corporal, but if we get the power on we can get that relay up and running anyway. Plus, I don't need to send another man in there if I got you three in the works."

I didn't completely agree with that course of action, another man meant another gun. And if whatever took Sixer is dangerous, pumping it with four times the lead is definitely a good thing. But orders from Sarge are like the words of God.

"Alright then, you got it boss. One missing marine comin' up," I waved Vic over, "Vic, let's go. We're headin' in." I shouted. He tapped Daniels on the shoulder then started to jog over here.

* * *

When we reached the end of the wall, the contrast between what we had investigated and what was over here was fictional, to put it simply. Along the length of the wall was a rocky path that zig zagged down to a small body of water. The edges of the pond, I guess you could call it, were lined with some colorful flora, some of which were bioluminescent. Yellow particles danced over the top of the water with some fish tracking them right beneath the surface. As we approached the bottom of the path we could identify a large sewage pipe. Logic only states that's our ticket in.

I looked at Hitch and Vic, they responded with a face saying they understood. All of us activated our rifle lights and made for the mouth of the pipe. The water was surprisingly warm, contrasting with the cold breezes we'd been receiving all day. They got warmer when we finally reached the entrance. I took a position on the left with Hitch at my back watching our six. Victor took the right, also scanning the pond. I aimed my rifle into the depths of the pipe, waving it around, like a search light in a prison. After a minute I finally zeroed in on an object of interest: a helmet. I tapped Hitch's shoulder and made an arc motion towards the inside.

After a few more seconds of scanning he nodded and rested his assault rifle on his breast plate, moving around me only to raise his weapon and aim it inside. He slowly made his way in, treading carefully with each step. The sound of the sloshing water echoed down the dark vessel. I turned my head towards Victor, waiting for him to make eye contact. When he finally looked in my direction I made a quick cock of my head, indicating I was about to move in behind Hitch. He nodded and made an OK symbol with his left hand and returned to scanning the pond.

As I followed behind Hitch, I began noticing some things in the pipe that you couldn't see by just peering inside. The light from our rifles mildly illuminated the floor, but just barely. In the muck, which in worst case scenario was shit, it held different mementos of what had previously happened in here: shell casings, a small pack and even a med-kit settled in the "mud". Another peculiar thing were footsteps, not ones left by Sixer and Maki, but ones that led outward. Whatever happened here, this was a last resort escape root at some point, but the question is what were they escaping? And why? This damn op has been giving me a lot more questions than answers.

"Hey, Corporal. This is definitely Sixer's, helm tag got's his name on it," he examined the helm with it being held in his right hand, the left holding the rifle forward. He hands it to me, then leans against the pipes wall. I took it and looked inside the inner part of the front mantle. Hitch was right, it read: **Francis Tillet** with "Sixer" scratched underneath it. But one thing was missing that I had expected; blood, there was no blood. This gave me some kind of hope that he was alive, but I didn't want to get ahead of myself.

"Vic, take the helmet and put it somewhere dry, we'll come back for it later." I tossed it to him and turned to Hitch, "Alright, let's see where this leads. If we're lucky we'll find Sixer along the way." I pushed him forward.

"If he's lucky we'll find his body." Hitch remarked. A negative outlook on the situation, but not an impossible one. After Victor placed the helmet somewhere for safe keeping he followed us in further down the pipe.

As we ventured deeper in, the pipe veered left into what was an artificial cavern, complete with concrete pathways and a purification station in the center of a body of water. The station lay atop a metal grate that was just a couple feet above the water, where the grate itself was being held by a concrete ring that was twenty feet in diameter, three feet thick, just enough for a single person to walk on. Another ring went around and was at least forty feet in diameter but the same thickness. Metal catwalks that formed a plus that protruded from the center of the cavern. The roof of the cavern went upwards at an angle from where the pipe ended to the other side of the room. At best, the cavern was fifty feet tall. Somehow, all of this had fit underneath the outpost.

To our right was a separate pool of water that flushed into the center mass, its source coming from grates on the wall with water still pouring in. As for our left, large machines that lay dormant sat atop a concrete platform. Aside from the steady pouring of water and some dripping, the room was silent.

Having confirmed that the room was secure, we lowered our weapons and went to the center station to investigate the consoles. To our surprise, all the panels and consoles were destroyed. However, the damage was not innate to standard weapons fire or even explosives. Since Victor was our field engineer, I deferred to him.

"Whatcha got here Vic? Anything useful to say?" I asked as I placed my rifle onto a small metal table. I kneeled down under one of the consoles and opened up the bottoms panels. Sparks burst into my face. "Sheesh, holy shit. Someone did a number on this place…"

"Tough to say, these consoles are fried. But not in the sense that these are overloaded, just take a look," he pointed to the damage on what looked like the main console, "that's energy type damage alright. Circuits are busted, gauges gone haywire. And what's this…" He lifted a section of the face panel off, revealing what looked to be a motherboard.

"Yeah, it's almost like it was overheated so much it mildly melted. Idunno what the hell could've done this." He started to tinker with it.

Examining much closer, I noticed burn marks all over the consoles. They looked like little black suns, ash grey in the center but burnt black arms extruding out from the center. I took my glove off and swiped my finger on it, smearing the burn mark. This isn't something a bullet would do.

"Plasma, that's gotta be plasma." Hitch claimed. We both turned to him. We saw he was leaning against the mouth of the pipe we came from, cigarette in mouth. He puffed a bit of smoke and held the cigarette between his two fingers, right hand carrying his elbow.

"Look at that shit, bullets don't do that. Energy does."

"What? That doesn't make sense, we nor the rebels have energy based weapons. And that experimental tech that ONI uses, what's it called… Idunno, something laser. That's not exactly standard supply." I reasoned.

"Seriously pendeho, think about it. If the UNSC doesn't have it, then neither would they." Victor said, a tinge of annoyance in his tone. We both knew what was being hinted here.

"Come on, don't give me that. You know exactly what I mean. The Cov-" Hitch began.

"No. I told you once, I'll tell you again, the Covenant aren't here." Victor immediately interrupted, tossing the junk he had in his hand to the side. It tumbled on the metal surface, making a loud noise.

"Listen here city boy, me and Corporal both know that you've got the most experience with the Covenant here, so you can tell us. Is that plasma damage or not?" Hitch stopped leaning against the pipe wall and stood straight. His weapon rested on his right leg.

"I was sent here from Arcadia before those alien bastards attacked my planet. I don't even know what plasma weapons look like, let alone a Covenant soldier." Victor's voice started to rise.

"Alright! That's enough, we have other concerns right now, and your bickering isn't one of them," I cocked my rifle, "Let's get a move on. That's an order." They both scowled at me. Although I was one or two ranks above both of them, it wasn't often that I pulled the Chain of Command card. But when I did, they both hated it. Victor strapped his helmet on and picked his assault rifle up, shouldering it off to the side. Hitch threw his cigarette into the water and picked up his rifle, unloading the mag to check the count. After placing the magazine back in, he cocks his rifle and starts walking towards us.

 _ **~SLOSH~SLOSH~SLOSH~**_

Hitch immediately jumped forward, turning around and raising his weapon towards the pipe. Victor and I did the same, Victor forming up behind Hitch's right shoulder whereas I crouched behind the metal table.

"Who's there!?" Hitch shouted.

"Lights, lights, get your lights on," I commanded. We all flipped our rifle lights on. This, however, revealed nothing. But then it came again.

 _ **~SLOSH~SLOSH~SLOSH~SLOSH~**_

"It's coming, ready up. Watch your finger though, we don't need friendly fire," I tensed up. What was coming? Am I gonna kill something? Should I kill? Shoot first? Ask later?

 _ **~SLOSH~SLOSH~SLOSH~SLOSH~SLOSH~**_

It was louder now. Very close.

 _ **~SLOSH~SLOSH~**_

Short but sweet, then nothing. I zeroed my scope in on the corner end of the pipe's pathway. 4x Zoom. Safety off. I held in my breath. A black object waved a few centimeters above the crosshair.

 _ **-BANG-**_

I fired off a shot. Then silence. Everyone was tense.

"Jesus, what the hell are you doing!?" It was a girl's voice. You could feel the tension leave our bodies. The air went from hot to cool almost instantly.

"Who the fu- reply when we ask a question damn it!" Hitch shouted. The figure came from around the corner. A friendly sight, a person clad in UNSC Marine ballistic plating. She walked toward us, left arm babying a DMR and right hand shading her face. I recognized her, she was the transfer that talked to me in the forest.

"At ease everyone," everyone lowered their weapons, "I didn't catch your name last time marine. What is it?" When she finally reached us, she let her eyes adjust and then held her rifle in a proper position.

"Myra Henrys, Private 1st Class, Sir! Reicher Platoon, 1st Division, transferred from Tribute's Eastern Colonies, Sir!" she stomped her foot on the ground and stood straight. Hitch and Victor chuckled to themselves. I laughed myself too, marines don't usually give me a full background report.

"Jeez, at ease Private. Err, I mean Myra. I asked for your name, not a personnel report."

"You are the highest commanding officer at present, sir. Protocol demands that I-"

"Protocol, at least in this group, demands you give that shit to Sarge. Not me. We're all soldiers here, nothing more, nothing less." How new was this girl? Been a while since I've seen a "by the book" type.

"But sir." She shuffled in her boots.

"But nothing, like I said at ease. Now tell me why you're here Myra." I forced the end to that conversation. She'll get used to it eventually, I'm sure. Her composure lightened up, shoulders dropped a little. She got the message.

"Master Sergeant Pickley sent me to-"

"Sarge. Just. Say Sarge. We don't use that addressment." Hitch smirked. He's right, it's been a while since we heard that name.

"Uhhh, Sarge sent me to check up on your group. It's been thirty minutes and you never gave a stat rep, sir." She looked around as she said this, wondering about the nature of the cavern.

"Oh shit, that's right. Vic, check the radio and give Sarge a report." I tapped his shoulder with the back of my hand.

"No can do, check your comms. We don't got a signal down here, only static." Victor was right. When I tapped into my helmet's headset there was nothing but static. I pulled out a piece of paper and wrote my signature on it, then handed it to Myra.

"Here, take this to Sarge and tell him that we're still checking things out. In short: nothing except unusual damage to water purification consoles. Got it? Good." She took the paper in confusion.

"Why the paper sir?" she asked.

"Sarge is just a weird guy. He either wants to hear your voice or needs confirmation that the report is from who he wants it from." Yep, not the first time I've been asked about Sarge's weird habits.

She nodded and started down the pipe way. With that being concluded, I scanned the room for a way out, which is when I noticed the hatch up top, opposite of our entrance. Steel rungs planted into the concrete led up to it. We walked our way to the ladder and went up, one by one. Couldn't wait to see what the outpost had in stock for us.

11


	3. Chapter 04

**04**

All of us clambered out of the top of the exit chamber, taking up positions one by one in our immediate environment. Victor positioned himself by some crates to the right of the exit, Hitch stood guard at the corner of the building nearest to us on the left, and I stay crouched at the opening after climbing out last. Rifle lights were off but weapons were chambered. I examined our surroundings, looking for hostiles and friendlies alike; but all my hopes went to just friendlies. I wasn't expecting to see any real threats, the dead silence of the area spoke inactivity. But on a battlefield, silence was deadly.

The moon light illuminated a sign that was bolted onto the side of the building, right above Hitch's head. It read: **WATER TREATMENT CENTER**. Ah, so this is the main building. Much smaller than anticipated, but at least I know that the water here can stay clean. The consoles we discovered down below were only maintenance devices, expendable for the moment. But my main concern was getting a better look at this place, although we had the moonlight to guide us step by step, we were pretty much lost if it came to navigating the outpost itself. I whistle Victor and Hitch to regroup to me.

"Alright, we're inside but first things first, we gotta get the power running." I said.

"Okay, but where the hell are we gonna find the generators?" Hitch spoke my mind. He was still sharp, thankfully, rifle pacing left and right, ready to fire.

"That's just it, moon light or not, we're still lost. We need to get to a guard tower at least, get some over watch. When I'm up top, I might be able to spot something useful." Just as I was about to stand up, Victor deliberately coughed loudly in order to catch our attention. We both turned to him, ready to hear his words of wisdom.

"Look, I'm no genius, but generators are generally located towards the back of a base. According to logic, we're in the north eastern corner. My bet is that the generators are located just opposite of us on the other side." Victor explained, with even a bit of pride in his voice. But it wasn't un-warranted, that is generally how things were designed.

"Yeah, but even then, getting a good view of the place isn't entirely a bad idea. We can see what might be in our way, and maybe even confirm the generators position." Hitch refuted subtly, still scanning our surroundings. But just like Victor's, that's not a bad idea either. They both then turned to me. Victor began to suggest a proposal:

"You're the CO here Corporal, you decide what we should do. My way would technically be faster, but I don't think the dumbass is all that wrong either." Hitch scowled at Vic but I raise my hand at him before he could start barking. I need to think about this, so hearing them bicker won't help me make the best decision.

Getting topside on a guard tower isn't an exceptionally bad idea, it would just provide a bit of a detour and effectively increase the time we'd be spending here. As much as this silent graveyard makes me want to stay here, I'd prefer finishing the job in under at least two hours. But I would get a better sense of the area, maybe even spot Sixer. But that's only another bet on chance.

On the other hand, heading straight to the generators would be faster, save us a lot of time if Victor's right. And among other things, we'd have the power running. Bringing the outpost back to life would make searching a lot easier. But the compound is too big to _hope_ that the generators will be where we want it to be. Time spent searching for those machines is time lost searching for Sixer, but it may ultimately shorten our search expedition. _Shit, what should I do?_ I thought about it for about another thirty seconds before coming to a conclusion.

"Alright, we're stickin' to the original plan. Find a guard tower and let's get a good bearing on this place. If we're lucky the generator facility may be closer to us than speculated. I'll take point, Vic you're on my shoulder. Hitch, watch our six. Let's move on a good pace, but take it slow. Ooh-rah?" My officer instincts were kicking in. I liked it.

"You got me riding your asses this time?"

"Hey, _cállate puto_ , get in line."

"I asked for an 'Ooh-rah' not your God damn bitching." We all chuckled. They replied with a proper 'Ooh-rah' and formed up behind me.

As I head for the nearest path we pick up speed. We made quick but steady movements, watching our corners and making good time. Since my first concern was finding a tower, it'd be best to head to the center of the outpost. Chances are that a courtyard would be established there, allowing us to get a good view on the taller buildings.

As we kept our steady pace, I was noticing things about the buildings we were passing, unsettling details. Just like on the consoles, burn marks dotted the doors and walls of the barracks and structures we passed. When the light of my rifle made passes on the floor we treaded on, it revealed more burn marks and even shell casings. The occasional dropped rifle or magnum passed my sight, a good indication of a dead soldier. I reverted my gaze backwards to Victor and Hitch, whom had temporarily broke formation to investigate what they were seeing as well. Their sharp motions indicated they were just as uncomfortable as I, if not more so. Since I had the most combat experience than both of them, these types of images weren't completely uncommon to me. But what was bothering me was that there were no bodies, not even any blood. Nothing that indicated death, only a fight as far as I could tell. No, there was no question of struggle here.

After another minute of jogging we finally reached what seemed like the central area of the base. A pile of crates and supplies lay at the center with camo netting pitched over them, standard supply cache set up. We took up what you might call "defensive positions" next to the crates. It was more like crouched together, weapons pointed but shaking. All three of us panted quietly. I look over the tops of our surrounding buildings to try to find what would remotely resemble a tower. We could, of course, try to get into the relay but that was way on the other side. Then I identified the tallest building closest to us, it was more like your standard building but significantly larger, and taller, than the rest. I pointed it out to Victor and Hitch.

"It's no tower, but it has a panoramic view of the entire base," I made my finger distantly outline the long window that lined the entire length of the building, "that's where we're going. Understood?" They both nodded, "Good, let's move."

We made for the building which, luckily, had a pretty straight forward path that lead to it. Oddly enough, this road didn't have many burn marks or shell casings like the previous ones we had followed. But frankly, that was the least of our concerns.

When we finally made it to the base of the building it became quite clear what it was, the HQ. Literally painted on the front of the building were the words:

 **HEADQUARTERS – FR: 71**

To our dismay, however much expected, the front door was not functioning properly. A deep red light that was the OPEN DOOR button flashed on and off. Further inspection revealed that this meant it was "out of order".

"Of all the damn things to stop us, it's a door that isn't working properly." Hitch slammed the butt of his rifle against the door causing a loud metallic echo within the inside of the building. The light went white.

"You're shitting me." I laughed. I looked at Victor, who was also chuckling to himself. Of all the fortunate things to happen to us, it was smacking a door that allowed it to happen. I waved Hitch inside, "Open sesame, I say the gate keeper goes in first."

"Hmph, you're just too scared to take point." He smiled as he walked in. We slowly followed him inside.

* * *

As the door closed behind us, the door button reverted back to flashing red.

"What the fuck?" Victor snapped, beginning to inspect the door control.

"You sort that out. Hitch, let's explore the room." I mounted my rifle atop what looked like a bookshelf, aiming the light to illuminate the room as best as I could. Hitch did the same, after which we both activate our helmet lights and pulled out our magnums.

Surprisingly, the room looked a lot more like a reception area to an office rather than a rec area for a military outpost. A coffee table sat in the middle of the room with three metal benches taking up its left, right and upper ends. As for the bookshelves, total there were four of them, each in pairs taking up the southern and western walls. Random assortments of books and magazines proudly took up the shelves. As for the eastern side, a metal staircase led to a catwalk resting overhead. Below said catwalk were two doors separated a couple feet from each other. One was labeled **Lavatory** while the other was **Cafeteria**. My helm lights revealed that the up-stairs room was labeled **Observation Deck, CO's Quarters, Med-Bay** and **Prison Cells**. The northern wall had a table standing alongside it, complete with a coffee machine and complimentary assortments.

The one thing I forgot to mention about all these details is the deal breaker in the peace: burn marks everywhere. And just like outside, shell casings lay on the floor. But again, no bodies or blood to account for the missing persons. I didn't get it, how is this possible? All the evidence you'd need to determine a struggle, but not a single eye witness or victim to boot.

"This shit is fubar, sir." Hitch spoke shakily. I looked over in his direction and saw that his movements were stiff, like every step could be death. This behavior was uncommon for him, but it was justified. A byproduct of fear is caution, and being reckless now may very well spell our own deaths.

"Status on the door Vic?" I asked. Victor slammed on the door with his palm. Pretty much answered my question.

"Thing is screwed up Corporal. But it's not malfunctioning." Victor said this while squinting at the door, as if his eyes could repair it.

"The hell does that even mean?" Hitch questioned, walking over to Vic to inspect the door himself.

"Look, whatever the hell is going on here, someone wanted this door to lock up on us," he tapped the red button, "this was deliberate."

"How can you tell?" Something was definitely wrong here.

"I plugged my wrist mounted TacPad into the door's manual outlet, tried to slice it a bit to maybe override its functional coding. Even though this is just a standard outpost, the doors here function via digital control, a bit more advanced than usual." He tapped on his TacPad. I didn't even notice he had one. Is that standard issue for Engineers?

"And that means?"

"It means that someone realized this and programmed it to open once, and only once. One would call this a trap, sir. _Comprende?_ "

"A trap? By who, rebels?"

"Fuck if I know, sir." Victor picked up his rifle and looked at the door up-stairs, "We might as well look around further, there's no way out this way." In agreeance, Hitch and I picked up our rifles and made our way up the metal stairs. The clanging of our boots on the stairs echoed in the room. If something lived here, they sure knew we were here by now.

As I aim my rifle into the doorway I revealed a rather long hallway that tunneled down to the end of the building. Some of the metal floor plates were misplaced, but otherwise everything checked out. Burn marks and such we're A-OK on our list of what to see regularly now. Two doors were on each side of the corridor, each considerably separate from each other and taking up alternate positions. No two doors faced each other.

The first room we reached was designated the Med-Bay. I took the right, Victor took the left and Hitch stood front and center. I raised my rifle to my chest, tapped the door, made an OK symbol and pointed two fingers in their direction. They both replied to my gestures by making an OK symbol with their hands. I counted down with my fingers.

Three… two… one… I slammed on the button, and the door slid open, Hitch took point. Victor entered second, crossing the door way and taking a right side position, I did the same only taking the left instead. Greeted with nothing but silence, we scanned the empty room with our rifles, each movement uncovering bare white counter tops and glass cabinets. In the corner was a high risen leather bed, standard for medical staff to examine patients. But after a minute or two of searching, we found nothing of interest.

We repeated this procedure for both the Prison Cells and the CO's Quarters, both of which provided the same results. Silent and empty rooms with nothing to show for the people who may have occupied them. Not one body to prove humans inhabited this location. This place gave me nothing but the creeps. But nothing matched what we saw next.

"Man, what in fuck's glorious name is going on here?" Hitch turned around to face us, stopping our advance to the last room.

"I'm just about as clueless as you Hitch." I briefly turned around, scanning the area behind us with light.

"We should give a quick report, let'em know our status."

"Hey, _pendejo_ , remember? The doors locked up on us and our comms don't work in here."

"Well shit, you didn't tell me that."

"Alright, enough, both of you. Let's investigate the last room."

As we reached the final room, the supposed Observation Deck, we noticed that the door was ajar. You could only fit your arm through it if you tried. I shone my light into the room to get a look at what was inside but I couldn't identify anything of concern, only that the deck window's shutters were closed making it inherently dark inside. I pulled my rifle out of the door's open section and shouldered it. I decided forcing it open was our best option. I gestured Victor to help me.

 _ **-Heeelp…-**_

All three of us looked at each other and paused our actions.

"You… you heard that right?" I asked. They nodded.

 _ **-Someone… help… me-**_

My face went hot. The voice was rugged, strained and dry. Like its throat was so parched it could match a desert. After so much silence from the environment around us, the voice of another human being was both terrifying and relieving at the same time.

"Stay there! We're trying to, HRRGH, get the door open!" Victor and I struggled to pull it open, but we made progress. The gears screeched and howled, the door gave more resistance for every inch we got it open. Pulling harder and harder, we could almost fit half our entire body through the door. My hands were becoming strained, I was losing my grip. But I had to open the door, there was someone in there and they might have answers to my questions.

 _ **~BAM~**_

The door finally snaps open, with both Victor and I stumbling in. Hitch paced inside, weapon drawn and scanning the room. His rifle's light brought forth the image of a half-naked man sitting cross legged in the center of the room, chest slouched over them. After catching our breath, we joined Hitch with our weapons raised and focused on the man. With a much better view of him, the true sight was quite painful to see, to say the least.

His pale flesh revealed that he had many bruises and cuts all over his body, his bare back revealed this much. The blood had already dried. Ah, blood. Finally. The first sign of life in a long time.

He wore simple marine fatigues on his legs, the only things missing were his shin guards and thigh plates. This implied that he was off duty at the time of his… whatever happened to him. I started to creep forward, but Hitch placed his hand in front of me. He looked at me and shook his head, mouthing the words "I'll check it out." Reluctantly, I nodded to him. He shouldered his rifle and slowly walked toward the man, hands in front of him and spread out a bit, as if he were ready to embrace him.

"Marine, what's your name bud? You okay there?" Hitch had a friendly tone in his voice.

 _ **-Heeelp…-**_

Same statement as before, same sound almost. It sounded almost metallic, synthetic. But it sounded real.

"Alright pal, I'm walkin' to ya, nice and slow. Don't freak out on me, okay?" Hitch was _eight feet_ from the man.

"Hitch, careful man, if he makes a move…" Victor expressed his concern. Hitch slightly turns his body towards Victor's direction, Victor's own rifle midway between aiming at the floor and the battered body.

"Look at the guy, he's beat to all hell. What could he do?" He turned back to the man and walked closer, only _five feet_ between them, "Okay man, I'm gonna touch you now. We're gonna take care of you okay?" _three feet_ , "Here I go." _One. Foot._

Hitch kneeled next to the very pale and bruised man. He took his right glove off and placed his warm hand on the man's shoulder. You could hear his breath stop and his body go still. Victor and I looked at each other.

"He's… fuckin' cold man." Hitch stayed his position.

"What? Well no shit, it's night time. It's, what time is it?" I checked my watch. 0100. "It's one in the morning, freezing up in the north right now."

"No, Corporal. He's cold. Out. He's fuckin' dead. And… what's this." Hitch pulled a small device from the bodies lap and examined it. It was dark purple in color, with a screen of a sort on it. It was almost transparent. Green wavelength like images danced on the screen. "The hell is this?"

"Wait, Hitch don't touch that." I started walking towards him.

 _ **-Someone… help… me-**_

The sound undeniably came from the device. Wide eyed, Hitch grabbed the body in a hasty manner. An object fell on to the floor, left of the dead body. I shone my light on it as I approached Hitch, started to grab for it.

"What the fuck is that?" I stopped where I was.

 _ **~Kyeeeee~**_ The object was round and blue and started to glow brightly, squealing as it illuminated. Hitch held it in his palm, studying it deeply, then looked up at me, with a sad look on his face. Eyes sunken. Mouth ajar, like he was about to shout something. I started to run for him.

"HITCH!"

 _ **~CHHPOOOOOOOW!~**_

A large flash of blue went off in my eyes, along with a pulse wave that sent me flying backwards. I hit the wall sideways, losing all the air in my lungs. When I crashed hard into the floor, my rifle landed next to me, light shining in my face. Bright colors burst in my eyes while my head throbbed. A flashbang? No. It wouldn't have hurt me that bad. Explosion? Grenade? What kind of grenade does that? _Trap_? _Hitch_? No, Hitch. _Hitch_!

I attempted to lift myself up, but I only returned to the floor as my lungs had yet to recuperate from loss of breath. Victor was kneeling next to me, I couldn't see his face but I knew it was him. The light of his assault rifle was pointing at the source of the explosion. I couldn't see the result, but I knew what happened. He died. Hitch died. Not even a word, no joke said, nothing. Just gone. The idea seemed impossible, we've been partners since I was transferred to Reicher. His witty remarks, always there to provide comical relief to any situation. His stupid demeanor could be seen whenever you looked at him. The crooked smile he'd give you whenever you caught him smoking a cigarette. The comfort he could offer on the field when you knew he had your back. All of it. Gone.

 _It's just like Tribute. Good job Corporal, more blood on your hands. Will you repent like you said you would then? Or shrug off his_ _death like you did the others?_

Fuck. Not now. I don't need this now.

Victor rolled me over onto my back, which shot pain into the right side of my chest. Broken ribs? Probably. But at least I was alive. _Unlike Hitch_. _He's dead_. Not like Victor. Victor was slapping my face lightly, almost like he was instilling life into me. I could see his face now, but there was a lot of red in my sight. I couldn't see properly, I'm not sure why, but I couldn't. Victor was mouthing something, but I'm not sure why he won't just say it out loud, I'm right here.

" _Corporal… are… okay?"_ I barely made out what he said. I guess my hearing went out for a bit. _Rrrrrrrring_. " _Corporal, are you okay!? Answer me!"_ It was a bit louder now.

 _RRRRRING. Pop._

"CORPORAL!" His voice boomed in my ears. I shut my eyes and covered my ears with my hands. I could hear him loud and clear now.

"I… hear you… God damn. Hitch. Go… go check on Hitch, Vic." I managed to say this much. My ribs were killing me.

"Sir… you were only a couple feet from the explosion and look at you. Hitch is…"

"Dead. God dammit, I know. I was just hoping…" I noticed that the upper right portion of my face was burning. Holy shit was it burning. I started to touch it, only to feel an extreme sting as a response. I investigated the rest of my body, which was intact thankfully. It's just that my plating on the right was relatively scorched.

"Don't touch it sir, it's burned pretty bad. _Aye dios mios_. But you'll live, come on we gotta get you up." Victor started to get me into the upright position, but I finished standing up by myself. I picked up my rifle. Light was busted, but the rifle still seemed functional. That was good I guess. I looked over at the detonation site. A majority of both the dead body and Hitch was either blackened or gone, vaporized by whatever the hell exploded. I've never seen anything like it before. Beautiful and deadly.

I turned towards Victor, ready to tell him the plan. Then the air behind him shimmered. A large transparent and blurry figure stood behind him.

 _ **~KSSSHHH~**_

A flash of energized white appeared behind him. Two floating blades of pure, beautiful white energy presented themselves in glorious, contradicting, deadly splendor. They rose above Victor's head. Just like the explosion. Beautiful and deadly. My eyes widened. I raised my rifle, aiming at Victor.

"Vic, get down _now_!" I screamed furiously. Startled, he stumbled to his left toward the floor. The two blades dropped down with frightening speed.

 _ **~KSSHPFFF~**_

Where Victor originally stood, the floor was burned and broken. The blade had cut straight into the floor with almost fluid like ease. If another second had gone by Victor would have been undoubtedly mutilated. _Another death._ I immediately fired off a couple shots at the source of the blade.

 _ **~BANG~BANG~BANG~**_

Two of the three shots landed on their unintended target. Where the transparent shimmer stood, waves of pale blue energy formed, hexagonal shapes where the shots hit rippled from their sources. A deep growl of some sort emanated from the shimmer's direction. The blade was ripped out of the floor, causing the metal plates to fly crashing behind the floating blade. The shimmer turned to what looked like Victor's direction, the two blades drawn backward, ready for a lunging attack that would no-doubt be able to kill a man in one strike. Victor raised his weapon and unloaded his magazine.

 _ **~RATATATATATATATA~**_

The hexagonal ripples formed again, but in smaller occurrences. A shield, that's what it was. The smaller caliber of the assault rifle wasn't hitting the "shield" as hard, I guess.

Like before, Victor stumbled back onto the floor, only this time it was with his intention. Only barely, he dodged the lunge of the blade, where it implanted into the window behind him. Quickly, he got up and ran towards the door, waving me over.

"Let's get the hell out of here!" He shouted, running out the door way. I looked at where the blade was, still planted into the window. But it was then yanked out, shattering the glass. Again, another very deep growl came from the shimmer. The moonlight from the broken window and shutters shone onto the figure and revealed it to be very large. It towered over any man. You could feel its gaze. You couldn't see its eyes, but you could feel its sight. Malicious. Blood lustrous. Deadly. Primal. It was all these things, I believe. But I didn't need to confirm. I ran for the door, leaving Hitch behind.


	4. Chapter 05

**This is just an intermediate chapter, sorry that it's length is so short. The next one will be full length. Thanks for reading!**

 **05**

Oh shit, oh shit, what the _fuck_ was that? It was big. Real big. Scary big. Tear your fuckin' limbs off big. My heart was pumping, no, throbbing. The adrenaline of fear advanced throughout my body, sabotaging my perception of the reality in front of me. The hallway I had walked across in no less than five minutes now seemed like it was going on forever, with no end. The lack of light made this place seem like the pits of Tartarus itself. Every step was heavy, like the weight of my entire body and more was forced into each one. My knees felt like they were going to buckle, snap even. Every muscle went into panic mode, but rather than feel the rush to force myself forward, I felt light instead. My entire body felt like a contradiction, but was panged backed into a fully functional machine of pure cowardice, constructed by the howling horror behind me.

" _Grrraagh! Wrof skwee krushex!_ " Although it was darker in the hallway, the transparent shimmering mass was barely noticeable as it burst out the doorway. It slammed into the metal wall opposite of the door, leaving a massive and ever so visible dent. It growled and snarled loudly, huffing puffs of white, hot air out of what was probably the mouth.

 _ **~KSSHHH**_ ~ The blades formed out of thin air once again.

Terrified by the sight behind me, I raise my rifle in its direction and start blasting rounds down range, hitting the walls, floor and ceiling around it, but failing to hit the target itself. The blade crept towards my position at a slow but alarming rate. Shuffling backwards, I lose track of where I walk, hitting the railing behind me and fall down onto the floor below. A huge thud knocks all the wind out of my lungs and destroys another two ribs, this I was sure of. I was barely able to lift my chest off the floor, allowing myself to look at Victor. He was fiddling with the door again, desperately trying to open it. Annoyed, he finally blasts the red button with his assault rifle, miraculously forcing the doors open. He looks in my direction and shouts something to himself and runs to me. Shouldering his rifle, he clamps on to my chest plate straps and starts dragging me towards the door, the price of this pathetic escape being more and more pain in my chest.

"Get the fuck up _puto_! That… that _THING_ is gonna kill us!" He screamed, his voice a mixture of both horror and anger. It even cracked a little. I would've laughed had it not been for my broken ribs and the freakish fucking monstrosity chasing us. Using the exit's doorway, I lift myself off the floor and look up at the railing where I fell.

 _ **~CLANG~**_

A huge bend in the middle of the railing announced itself, accompanied by the floating blade that we have been so terrified of. The massive creature then revealed itself, deactivating whatever device allowed it to maintain its invisibility. Like water rolling off a rock, the shimmer slowly dissipated revealing a grey hulking mass clad in silver armor. Its feet clung to the railing, as well as one of its monstrous hands, while the other held the blades. The armor it wore was uniquely crafted, curved and shiny, complementing the contours of the creature's body.

As for its anatomy, it was strange in and of itself. Its legs were horse like, having three joints of movement rather than two, with hoof like feet, also armor plated. Its hands had four long fingers with small claws at the tip of each end. But most horrific of it all was the head, a mildly elongated appendage that had four mandibles each housing a number of many sharp teeth. The only saving grace was the sleek helmet plating and mandible armoring that guarded the terror that was its cranium. And its eyes, its dark menacing eyes. Just as I was about to stumble out, I locked eyes with the demon, its own malicious intent being conveyed to me through perception alone. Its mandibles spread out as it roared at us in anger. We started sprinting down the path that we came from toward the center of the base.

Off in the distance we could hear the sound of distant gun fire in the direction of the gates, a sound that was both pleasing and disheartening to my ears. If they were shooting at what we think they're shooting at, then they likely await the same fate Hitch did.

 _More bodies. More blood. More death. Just like Hitch._

By the time we reached the courtyard I was being fully supported by Victor. I could feel my ribs shuffling in my chest, offering no leeway for relief. The state I was in was undeniably bad, if not grotesque, but I had to keep moving otherwise I was dead. With what little adrenaline I had left, I ignored the pain that shot into my chest with every step. Every breath I took was pitiful, shaky and stirred up. I could taste blood in my mouth and feel my legs starting to buckle. I raised my free hand that was cupping my chest in front of my face to allow myself to get a good look at the warmth I was feeling. As expected, there was blood. Quite a bit of it too. Enough to explain why I felt like dropping onto the floor and falling asleep. It was easier than running. Victor could feel my weight shifting downwards as we moved.

"No, no, not here man. You aren't goin' down yet. We've got a ways to go _puto_." He readjusted me over his shoulder, also taking the opportunity to look back. "Where'd that bastard go?" I was becoming dead weight for him, and we both knew it. I knew it. I felt my legs begin to falter under my weight as I lose my strength. It was like fighting an uphill battle, with weights tied to my legs.

"Vic, drop me. I'm useless right now, you need to get out of here." I coughed up some blood. I may sound noble right now, but I honestly wanted to rely on him a bit longer.

"Shut your damn mouth and keep moving, damn it. Don't talk, save your energy for something important. Like running." It got to a point where he started dragging me on his shoulder. I was barely taking steps, but before we knew it we managed to get to the gates. The gunfire was much louder now. Victor slammed on the gates.

"Hey, who's still out there!?" Victor shouted. Gun fire was the only reply we got. Victor cursed to himself then placed me down against the gate in a sit down position. He slapped me hard, waking me up, and said:

"Listen, I'm goin' up this catwalk. I swear to shit if you're dead when I come back I'll kill you." I smiled and laughed at his stupid statement. I'd be sure to take his word for it, if the time came. He ran away in a direction I couldn't recognize anymore. Things started to fade in and out.

 _My sight goes black_. I can hear the gun fire, but also a new sound. What sounds like gun fire, but energy based. Like a laser but not, it's hard to describe. It sounded… bright.

My vision returns. Raising my head I can see that the gates have been opened somehow, I don't get it. If I recall, we need power in order to get that giant thing running. Looking to my right I saw that two marines were positioned behind some sand bags, shooting something. Everything was blurry, I couldn't make anything out but the flash of their rifles.

 _Things go black again_. A voice. Not familiar, but human. It's saying something to me. _Hey, hey, speak to me_. How can I? I'm too tired to talk. Just let me sleep. _He's deep in, we gotta get some adrenaline into him at least, and get more blood flowing._ More blood? From where? I lost a lot of it. _Check my kit, there's some Medigel in there_. Medigel? What? No, don't waste it on me.

 _I regain consciousness_. My eyes open and I see our field medic with a knife to my chest, creating a quick incision into my chest cavity. Soon after, he inserts the nozzle of the Medigel can into the wound, filling it with a cold and fresh foam. He looks at me, smiles and says something that I didn't hear. I looked passed him and saw… more of those demonic creatures from earlier. More of them? Oh hell, that's not good. They had different color armor too. But rather than those… swords, they were armed with some type of automatic hand pistol. It shot bright blue bolts. A volley landed on one of the marines taking cover at the sandbags. He flew backwards, flailing his arms sporadically, throwing his rifle to the side. After hitting the ground, he lay on the floor motionless, and with a blank face. His chest sizzled with smoke rising off of it.

After I shake my head, I re-assess the situation, I realizing just how dire things had become. From what I could tell, we have lost four men already, Hitch not included. The monsters we were fighting were being held back at best, but they still made their advance. We couldn't do anything about their shields, only annoy them. I counted five, maybe six of the beasts. They moved too quickly for me too track though. Fortunately they were a considerable distance away from us. But that wouldn't keep us safe for long. Not that we were safe at all to begin with.

Victor was on the other end of the gates… commanding everyone? That wasn't right. I scanned the area and finally saw another body to add to our casualties; it was Sarge. He lay sprawled out in the middle of the gates main pathway, one arm missing. How it happened, I do not know. But it was both grotesque and demoralizing. Finally Victor noticed I was conscious. I also regained my hearing.

"Alright, let's pack it up marines! Myra, Zet, keep firing on those split-lips! Vince, how's Corporal?" Victor was shouting over the loud gunfire that Myra and Zet were ordered to lay down.

"He's stabilized, but in no condition to fight, let alone move, sir." He spoke as quickly as he packed up his med kit.

"Regardless, we all need to get a move on. These rifles aren't doing shit to those things. With their speed, it's difficult enough to even land a shot." He began lifting me up again, putting my arm around his shoulder, right arm brandishing his assault rifle. "Marines, let's move out!" Everyone replied with an 'ooh-rah'. It felt nice to hear.

We all started sprinting for forest, a place we believed was our best hope for survival. In the entire squad, six of us were left. Victor and I took center piece in our retreating formation, Zet and Myra took either side. Vince and one other marine did the same. We sprinted as if our lives depended on it, and shit, they damn very well did. But frankly this was not enough. Our so-called escape was only a walk along the slaughtering grounds. The first to go down was Zet.

As we were all sprinting, one of the brutish monsters with lightning speed managed to catch up to us. It tackled Zet into a rolling motion then threw him forward, several feet ahead of us. Somehow Zet was able to recover and start shooting the monster but this was only false hope. It made a single bound in his direction, summoning his blade and then planting it straight into Zet's chest. The demon first dragged the limp body downward then into the air like a scooping motion, raising Zet into the air like a trophy. It was horrific. All I could do was run harder.

The second to go down was the Vince whom was running next to Myra. Nothing spectacular, he literally went limp and fell to the ground. As bolts of blue energy flew over our heads, a purple beam of energy lazed right through his head and into the ground in front of him. Like a brick, he dropped with a rolling _thud_. An inglorious death, undeserving for someone who basically saved my life. But I had no time to mourn, I only continued to move.

The third of all of us was the marine left of Zet. As if trying to gain some glory, she shouted to us: _Just keep running, I'll slow them down!_ As much as I wanted to commend her, it was stupid and futile. Literally seconds after stopping, turning around and firing her weapon at the enemy's direction, one of the monsters on her right flank leapt up from the brush and grabbed her head mid-flight, tossing her into the air. Even though her neck was probably already broken from the sudden jerk, the creature started pelting the body in the air like it was target practice. As the body hit the floor, you could hear the crack of more bones. I wanted to scream, vent out my fears and angers, but my lungs wouldn't let me.

By the time the third one fell, we were just entering the forest's tree line. The shadows laid out by the trees crept over us, making things darker and darker as we sprinted deeper into the abyss. The sight of blood is what I wished for, the massacre of my squad was what I got. God is a demented fellow. And these monsters delivered his message clearly.


	5. Chapter 06

**06**

It was approximately fifteen minutes of running we did when we entered the forest. Fifteen minutes of pure panic and semi-respite. Jesus. What happened just now, it was something I could've never even imagined. But even that was the least of my concerns. It was _who_ just attacked that has unsettled me beyond any reach of steadiness. It was undeniable who it was. _Covenant_ was on Reach.

I looked around at the location we decided to take refuge in. It was a fairly compact area, dense with trees and bioluminescent flora. Glowing moss rested atop many of the rocks we sat on, accompanied by tall appendage like grass plants. Their flowers shined with vibrant colors, five oblong petals of a sunny orange with a warm red in the dead center. The trees themselves were no exception to this glowing display. Platform like fungus colonized itself on random positions on every tree, emanating a certain bluish-green color. Occasionally, some of the fungi would shake and release misty spores that shared the same color. Patches of normal green fern-like plants scattered throughout the grassy dirt around us.

Aside from plant life, there was a lot of fauna around us as well. Maka birds, long feathered avian creatures that displayed red, blue or purple feathers, nested on the branches above us, watching us closely as they shifted positions. Glowing insects of different species also buzzed and crawled around us, sometimes flickering their own abdomens on and off. This place was vibrant with unprecedented life. Beautiful to the eyes and a treat to the nose. It contrasted completely with us. We were completely out of place.

Victor had decided to wash up in the stream, about fifteen or twenty feet from us, while Myra and I chose to hide away inside a large log. Hollowed out from years of decomposition, it had its side torn out, making it a crescent shaped structure. Its upper portion provided a decent canopy over our heads, yielding protection from the misty rain that was pouring down upon us. I turned my gaze towards Myra to inspect her condition. Shaken was the understatement of the century.

Even at first glance, you could see that she was beyond the realm of terrified. Eyes frozen in a widened gaze, hands cupping her bare head. Her sweaty, nape-length black hair painted onto her skin. Sweat striding down her temples and staining her shirts collar. You could hear her legs shaking, her boots rattling on the wood where her feet rested. Her helmet was buried in some mud a couple feet away from us, a result of her throwing it off to the side. She was murmuring something to herself under her breath. In a bit of agony, I scooted closer to her to attempt to comfort her.

"Myra. Myra, you okay? Talk to me." I took off my helmet and placed it behind me. Every motion wasn't without pain.

She sat there silently, gaze still frozen on some arbitrary position on the floor. Her grip may have even tightened a bit more. Her feet shifted together, tightening side by side. She had cocooned herself even more, as if to protect her from a big-bad-monster. But the reality behind her actions is as true as that analogy.

"Myra, you're gonna crush your skull," I chuckled lightly and reached for her arm, "Come on, let's calm you down." My hand touched her wrist. In response to this, she screamed loudly and scooted away from me in a very quick and jerky motion. She pulled out her magnum and aimed it directly at my head, her eyes fixated on my face. Her gun was shaking violently in place. I raised my hands and backed off a little.

"Stay back! Don't touch me! _Don't touch me!_ I-I'll kill you! I'll kill you, j-just like you killed m-my friends!" Her mouth trembled as she spoke, some words cracking under her stressed stature.

"Myra, look at me," her Magnum stiffened in place as I spoke, "It's me, your Corporal. Calm down, just _look at me_. Who am I?" I placed my right hand on my chest, tapping it to assert that I am in fact who I say I am.

"Shut up! Shut up! _Shut up!_ You're a m-monster!" The grip on her pistol tightened, the shaking settling down a little. Its barrel was still pinned on my head, like the eyes of a demon looking into my soul.

"No, I'm not monster. Listen to my voice, hear it. You know I am no monster. Please, put the gun down Myra. You don't want to hurt anyone, at least not me." My left hand slowly went towards my knife in preparation for the worst. For another minute, she stood silently, deciding what to do with herself, magnum lowering only a little bit.

"I… what… no… Stay back. I. What's happened?" The pistol came down to waist level now, aimed at the floor. I, however, could still not make a move. She was still unstable, ready to pull the trigger on the gun just as a cornered cat is ready to claw its way out of a hairy situation.

"Come on Myra, it's okay. You can- just put the gun down girl."

"I… I… Oh God. Fucking Christ. What's going on? Shit, shit, shit what the hell…" After a few moments, she finally dropped the pistol onto the floor and fell to the ground, beginning to sob while cupping her face. She wailed loudly, venting out her frustrations, fear and disdain for herself all at once. I limped over to her and kneeled down, placing my hand on her shoulder.

"Shhh… it's okay now soldier, we're safe now. It's okay, you don't have to be afraid." In truth I was only lying to both of us. I had no idea if we were even remotely safe from the horrors we narrowly escaped from. As far as I can tell, they could be stalking us as we speak. It was difficult enough to perceive them up close when they were cloaked, I couldn't imagine trying to spot one hidden among the brush with its invisibility on. But it's not like I could really do anything about it. I can only silently accept that the inner contents of my body could be spilled onto the ground at any moment. But what mattered was trying to get Myra back onto her feet. That, at least, is what I can do.

She gripped my leg tightly with her right hand, breathing heavily into her left to substitute for the loud crying. With every second that passed her grip receded until she finally let go. I retreated a couple feet and sat down in front of her. She sat straight up and wiped her face, looking at me afterwards.

"I'm sorry, sir, I… Don't know what went over me right now." She spoke apologetically. Ha. No need to apologize to me. Hell, if it weren't for my own insensitivity towards emotion, I'd be bawling too.

"Is this your first posting, Priva-"

"Myra is fine, if you'd be so kind sir." I smiled. Looks like she got the message from last time.

"Alright then, Myra, is this your first assignment?" I reached into my back pocket and took out a small, hand sized canteen. I took a swig of water, wiped my mouth and handed it to her. She took a small sip.

"You can have it all." I laughed, feeling a little regretful towards my decision to offer all of it to her. She proceeded to down the rest of it vigorously, some of the water pouring down her neck. After finishing, she handed me the bottle while wiping up her neck and face.

"Yeah… I finished boot camp two months ago but was put on reserve immediately. Apparently no immediate positions were in dire need of fulfillment, so I was allowed reserved R&R until a posting was found for me." She twiddled her fingers as she spoke. Whatever thoughts were going through her mind probably had to do with the cruel hand that fate had dealt to her. Her first field assignment and after a month she was thrown into the pits of Hell. If Myra were to make it out of this alive, this story would be up there with the ODST's. Shit, I wouldn't be surprised if she decided to become a Hell Jumper herself after this. But that's _only_ if she survives this.

"Didn't you say you were from Tribute?" I asked. She nodded.

"Yes, one of the industrial sectors. Section Theta-V3," she reminisced for a moment before returning to me, "It was a nice place to live in. Aside from the factories, it was otherwise rural. I had a lot of friends. My mom owned a small supply store, my dad worked as a delivery driver. Nothing splendorous, I know, but I was happy." Her face tightened, like she was about to cry again. Understandable. We were in a position that didn't guarantee our ride back home.

"That sounds nice… very homely, in my opinion. I'm sure they'll be happy to see you when you get back." A dangerous statement for me to say, but I had to give her a hope to cling to. She chuckled in response.

"Ha! Maybe. We fought a lot. I was a rebellious daughter… They wanted me to go to College. Get a degree in mathematics – I was always good at math – and find a steady job." She shook her head.

"But you wanted to join the UNSC, right? Conscription was halted on Tribute decades ago."

"That's right. I didn't want to become some house wife, or teach at a school. I didn't want something so standard. I joined the UNSC because I wanted action. To fight the damned rebels that we were taught to despise. Not fight-"

"The Covenant." Victor came in, assault rifle in hand. There was a large gash on the left of his bald head, dried blood staining his ear and chin. His face had a permanent frown on it.

"Right… the Covenant." Myra lowered her head, staring at the floor.

"Vic, your head, what happened?" I started to get up, but he raised his hand to stop me.

"It's nothing, only a small flesh wound. I'm fine. But we've got bigger concerns. For example, what the fuck are we going to do?" Victor's presence broke the peace I had established, his words decimating our steady feelings. But he was right. We needed to do something. Move was most likely one of them.

"We need to establish contact with someone, anyone. We need extraction." Myra's voice almost seemed like she was pleading with us.

"Our options are heavily limited. We have no radio, our comms are useless with HQ at this range. We've got nothing." I said with a tinge of concern. Analysis of our situation revealed that we are knee deep in some bad shit.

"Well we can't stay here, that's for God damned sure." Vic grumbled as he sat down next to me. He pulled some gum out of his pocket and threw a piece into his mouth, wrapper and all. He waved the pack in my direction, I politely declined.

"The only real option we have is to continue with the mission." I concluded.

"What? Are you being serious Corporal?" Vic looked at me with a bewildered face, "Look at us. Look at _what happened_ back there. We are in no position to be finishing anything."

"Then what do you suggest we do? HQ is hundreds of miles from here and we aren't even _mildly_ equipped to deal with a trip like that. We already know the coordinates of the LZ we have to investigate, and chances are, there's a radio there." I had to be the voice of reason here. Any other options we had are far from ideal.

"And when we get there?" Myra looked up at me.

"We change our objective," I looked at both of them, "this is a Winter Contingency. HQ needs to know." They both gave me a hard look. These were words they didn't want to hear, despite the fact that the truth was laid out in front of them long before now.

A Winter Contingency – a declaration of Covenant invasion or acknowledgement that threatens a UEG colony. Without this being relayed to a UNSC form of authority, a majority of this planet will be ripe for the glassing since military forces would be on standby. By the looks of things, the forces sent here were meant to be covert. If the Covenant were this close and are under the radar, it could spell disaster - no - catastrophe on a large scale for Reach.

"As much as I wished you wrong, Corporal, I can't exactly say no to your orders," Vic picked up his rifle and stood up in front of us, "Alright then. We'll find that stupid ass LZ and hopefully a radio too." Vic started to walk towards the stream.

I look around for a second and realize that something was off. Everything around us was eerily silent, as if all living things around us evacuated the area. The chirping of the insects halted, the shuffle of the birds in the trees gone. The only sounds I could hear were Victor's footsteps and the stream in the distance. I started to call for Victor, but I was too late.

A hulking split-lipped horror clad in orange landed in front of Vic with terrifying speed, the sound of a large _thud_ thundering when it landed, mud flying up due to the impact. Before Victor could even raise his rifle, the monster spun around and rear-kicked him right into his side, throwing him a good ten feet to the left and into a tree. The assault rifle fell on the floor, only to be crushed by the creature's foot. It looked up at me with malicious eyes.

" _Ei vo wruq riok_." Its voice was deep and menacing. Whatever it said, it was aimed directly at me. I reached for my knife so I could retaliate.

"No! NO! GET AWAY! GET AWAY! NOOOO!" Myra's shrill screams rattled my brain. I looked left and saw that another one of the monsters, this one in blue armor, had taken a hold of Myra with one hand, dangling her by her two hands. In its other hand it held a large, assault rifle looking weapon, only it was blue and had some white markings lining the side of it. It looked dangerous.

The one in orange started to walk towards me, speaking in a language I couldn't even come close to understanding. I had to act quickly, or I'm going to be as dead as the rest of the squad. Then I remembered Myra's magnum and scanned the floor. Only a couple feet to my left, I dove for it and picked it up. With rugged aim, I pointed it at my approaching enemy and fired off three shots. The first landed, but the next two were dodge with finesse as it dove in my direction with a bit of deviation in its path. In less than a second, it was only a few feet in front of me. Before I could fire off another shot, it snatched the pistol from my hands and crushed it in its own with ease. It crouched down and grabbed my neck, pinning me to the mossy wall behind me. It positioned its grotesque face in front of mine. Its hot breath moistened my face. I scratch and claw at its hand but with no success. Its grip only tightened, making breathing beyond impossible.

" _Borgrummi_ …" The deep voice shook my head when it spoke.

 _ **~KSSHH~**_ It pulled out an energy blade, identical to the one that tried to kill us back at the outpost. It reeled its sword arm back, ready to lunge. I stopped struggling and took a deep breath in. There was no point in trying anymore, I was going to die here and now.

* * *

A loud and evident beep invaded the ears of the overwhelming crowd, a sign that the Magnetic Tram was about to leave the station. The hydraulic doors to the transport closed, hissing shut and pressure locking the mechanism. The crowds that had formed up in front of the doors backed off, reorganizing behind a red line only a couple feet away from the tram's doors. Another loud beep rang out, its origin coming from the Tram itself. All eyes focused on the vehicle as the mechanical whirring loudened and the tram left the station.

Families, friends, strangers, children, men and women alike stood in the station. The incomprehensible bustle of words and sounds echoed throughout the large central building, similar to that of Grand Central Station back on Earth. Movements of individuals and groups were cross, random and organized all the same. No one wouldn't be able to understand where anyone was going, as the vectors of each individual person seemed aimless and unending.

The station itself was a large, tall and wide gray structure. As a matter of fact, the entire complex itself contrasted to standard New Carthage architecture and design. Where all other structures were designed to fit the "New Age" theme, bright whites and blues, this concrete jungle screamed plain and simple. The complex consisted of three main parts: the Entrance Annex, Main Terminal and Magnetic Rails. The Entrance Annex consisted of the main security parameters of the station, long hallways of metal detectors, x-rays and armed guards. If any one person were to approach the station without knowledge of its purpose, one could mistake it for a prison rather than a transport station. The Magnetic Rails snaked out the left side of the central building, similar to the standard set up of any train-like station. Long, single-seamed, electric, metal rails protruded out into the city, traveling to other stations on New Carthage, offering commute to any who needed it.

And finally the Main Terminal. A very tall and hollow building whose interior design was similar to that of an Ark. Five arch-like pillars reached from the ground to the ceiling, two arches on each end of the building and the remaining three even placed in the center of the construct. The center of the roof was itself a glass ceiling, offering a bright view of the blue sky above the massive crowd, contrasting to the grayness of the entire building. The inside of the walls had large words neatly painted on them, the most noticeable of them being **NEW CARTHAGE – STATION 06 – DELTA SECTOR**.

Among the suffocating crowd stood a family of five. The father, a tall and broad shouldered man, was off to the side, rambling on his phone to some company executive about how he was going to be late due to the traffic of people. He had a simple crew cut that was graying at the sides, evidence of both wisdom and stress. His hands were rough, but not those of a working man's but of a father.

The mother sat on a metal bench, a small baby boy in one arm and a young daughter in the hand of the other. She was a beautiful middle-aged woman, the ideal type of Asian wife. She had long, sleek black hair that came down to the mid-section of her back. Her black long sleeve shirt compliments both her red skirt and cardigan, both of which were embroidered with Qing Dynasty golden designs, all handcrafted by the woman. Each time the baby shuffled in her arms, she graced the child with maternal love, calming it down with a smile and a sway. The daughter sat on the floor, staring at the crowd in front of her, playing a solo-game of eye spy.

Off to the other end of the bench sat the eldest son of the two, a young boy at the ripe age of sixteen. He had a decent slim but sculpted body, not evidence of fitness but the simple fortune of having good genes. He wore black corduroys, a plain white shirt and a blue baseball cap on his head. He fidgeted with a small glass screened device, most likely playing a game or talking with friends via textual messages. The mother turned her head towards him and examined the scene. She clicked her tongue.

"You're always messing around with that toy. You should go talk to some girls instead." She teased him. He rolled his eyes.

"Mom, look around. This is a giant crowd in a station, _not_ some club." He continued to tap away at the screen.

"Oh come on _Xuéxí_ , you could at least make an effort. You're sixteen now! You need a girlfriend."

"I don't _need_ anything right now. And don't say that name! It's embarrassing." He glared at his mother. She smiled brightly and laughed in response.

"You shouldn't be embarrassed of the name we gave you! Besides, it's a good name."

"You think it's a good name. I think it's weird… You literally named me 'To Learn'. That's weird." He scoffed.

"Well as long as you're not, all the girls will like you!" She scooted closer to her son and pinched his cheek. In a quick fit he flailed the hand away from him. Rubbing his cheek, he glared at his mother. She only smiled back. After the boy returned to his device, the mother got up and walked to her husband. A frown took over his face as he hung up on his phone. She tapped his shoulder.

" _Lăogōng_ , what's wrong? Can we get on the next tram?" The husband turned her way and smiled, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Uhh, yes. We will. Soon. Something happened at the station we need to arrive at. I don't know what, but it will take a little longer."

"Did you tell your boss?"

" _Hǎo a_ , I just got off the phone with him. Everything will be fine." As he finished speaking, the eldest son came up to both of them. They turned his direction, acknowledging his presence.

" _I need to go to the bathroom. I'll be back._ " The boy spoke in fluent Mandarin. He gave the tablet to his father, both parents nodded, and he started walking to the bathroom.

He entered the tunnel that led into the underground section of the Station Terminal. The further in he went, the more the echoes of the hundreds of people behind him softened. As he walked he passed several rooms, each one dedicated to recreational purposes. These were reserved for those who had long layovers between each trip. Oddly enough, they contrasted in design with the rest of the entire station. Each room was painted with warm colors, red walls and orange floors. Green couches sit in the center with a wooden coffee table being the origin of the entire room. A TV was mounted on the walls, each one having the news channel on, reporting some kind of major fire somewhere. Most of the rooms were vacant but one or two had a family in them.

He finally reached the bathrooms, some 100 feet into the underground hallway. Simple design, three urinals and four stalls. Two sinks with vandalized mirrors mounted on the walls across from the urinals. All of them a depressing color of steel-gray. He unzipped his pants and relieved himself, reading some of the writing on the walls.

"For a good time… call this number…" He laughed at a couple of the jokes before he finished. He zipped up and walked over to the sink to wash his hands. Then a sudden and violent shake of the bathroom interrupted him, rubble falling from the ceiling and lights flickering.

"What the hell…" He murmured to himself and finished washing his hands. After drying them, he walked to the entrance of the bathroom. Before he could move forward, he was cut off by a large group of security guards running down the hall. Each one armed and armored up, as if preparing for a warzone. Another violent tremor shook the hallway, this time accompanied by the sound of a boom. Unsure of what was going on, he started to make his way back to his parents. Every other dozen feet traveled was greeted with another tremor and boom. The boy started to sweat as he approached the exit of the hallway. When he finally exited the hall, he gathered his bearings and spotted the group of guards that had passed him earlier. He then saw his family, waving him over, a troubled look on his parent's faces. Before he could even start walking, a massive explosion shattered the glass rooftop of the building. The chatter of the station was immediately replaced with shrill screams.

Nylon ropes were thrown down from the roof, soon followed by men, armed to the teeth. At least twenty were descending from above, unloading their magazines on the guards and people below them like Angels of Death. Before the guards could even raise their rifles, they were razed down to the ground with a shower of munitions. A large pool of blood formed on the floor underneath the pile of bodies. Several more explosions went off, killing dozens of people.

As this all happened, a rush of people went in the direction of the boy, each person hoping to find solace in the underground sections of the station. But as they reached the mouth of the tunnel they were slaughtered by more gunfire. The wave of people fell to the ground like dominoes. Miraculously, the people that died acted as a meat shield for the boy, protecting him from the gunfire. Several bodies toppled onto him, hiding him away from the intruders, their blood staining his body and turning his plain white shirt into a deep red. As if he were a dead body himself, he lay among the bodies motionless and frozen with fear. There were no thoughts in his mind, it was only blank. His eyes could see what was happening, but his mind refused to process it. Gun fire echoed and rattled throughout the building, followed by more screams, more bodies and more blood. No one was spared, women and children were included in the body count.

The boys eyes gravitated to a couple that was huddled up against a wall, arms covering their heads like it would provide sure-fire protection. Two armed men walked over to them, reloading their weapons. The man of the couple stood in front of his girlfriend, arms splayed out as if to protect her. The two men laughed and, without hesitation, unloaded their magazines into him. He fell onto the ground in front of the girl, his blood splattered all over her. Crying and screaming, the girl shook her boyfriend's body, pleading with it to stay alive. One of the armed men walked over to her, placed a pistol to her head and released a round into her head. She fell over, hugging the body of her loved one.

Opposite of where the couple was slaughtered, a group of people were gathered, surrounded by four gun men. Any time one of the people stood up to plead with the perpetrators, they were greeted with a gunshot to the head. Whatever vocabulary the armed men had, mercy was not included. After another minute, one of the armed men pulled out a grenade and unpinned it. The surrounding men backed up a couple steps before the grenade was tossed into the center of the group. The people were reduced to body parts after the detonation, blood splattered in all directions.

Then finally, the boy's eyes came to the center of the building. There, his family crouched next to the bench that they had taken refuge at earlier. Both the young daughter and baby were crying loudly, preventing any remote chance of hiding among the dead. The father hugged his wife and children protectively, trying to shield them from the sights around them. Two gunmen, the ones who previously killed the couple, approached them. Seeing this, the father stood up, arms toward them and hands up, pleading them to stop. But it was futile. Before the father could take another step, one of the men unloaded a round into his head. _Thud_. The body dropped, a pool of blood emanating from the head. The mother cried out loud and started sobbing.

Annoyed by the crying of the youngest daughter, the man took his pistol and whipped her head with the hilt of the gun. The blow was hard enough to break both her skull and her neck. She died instantaneously. In response to this, the mother desperately kneeled onto the floor and cupped her baby. She screamed and cried, apologizing to the men for no particular reason. Pleading with them to stop. Asking them to not kill them, to just leave them alone. Both men laughed at her as she repeatedly bowed to them on the floor. After a final bow, she raised her head and looked up at the murderers. The boys pupils dilated, blood rushing through his entire body. His senses returned to him, but there was nothing he could do. He was still frozen, but he was fully comprehending the scene before him. His mother's eye liner stained her cheeks, a result from the crying. His face went red hot from the sight. He started to cry himself. Then, as if the mother knew exactly where her son was, she looked directly at him. Whether or not this was the case, the boy locked his eyes with his mother's.

The man cocked his pistol and placed it to the temple of the mother. She closed her eyes tightly.


	6. Chapter 07

**07**

 **-BANG-**

An extremely loud gunshot echoes throughout the forest. It's a System 99D Anti-Material, long range, bringer of Death, daisy pushing sniper rifle, no doubt. Capable of hitting targets well over a thousand meters with ease. Pin-point accuracy, scope stabilizing technology, night-vision integrated. Penetrating tank armor is no big deal for it. Decimating flesh was its number one niche. Anyone trained in long-range combat could tell you that this weapon was second-to-none. From surgical strikes to articulate assassinations, it could do just about anything. And adding to that track record – It saving my fucking ass.

I open my eyes to find that the orange armored demon that was seconds away from sending me to the grave was sprawled out on the floor in front of me. The right side of its face had a large, purple-blood gushing wound, while the left side was shattered. The exit wound left its face in an almost unrecognizable state. Its energy blade was on the floor, sizzling as blood oozed its way and caressed it. I hear a thud to my left and see that the one in blue armor had dropped Myra to turn around and face the shooter's direction. It looks around frantically, its unorthodox weapon aiming in different directions. Shouting something in its native language, it proceeds to fire several energy bolts in random directions, hoping to win the bullseye lottery with its gun fire.

 **-BANG-**

A long white, smoky, stream trailed from across the stream, originating from about several dozen meters away. The blue armored monster's head detonates backwards, its brain matter coloring the hollowed log we took refuge in. It fell backwards into a sit down position, becoming very still and very dead. I noticed that at the point of impact, a miniscule flash of energy, almost EMP like, came off its body. Its shield had broken in one shot.

I ran over to Myra who has taken up a fetal position on the floor. She is shaking, murmuring the words _I'm Dead_ to herself, over and over again, like a religious chant meant to appeal the Gods of Death. Her eyes darting around violently, jaw clenched tightly to the point where you could see her cheek muscles straining, ready to tear into shreds. She hugs herself, gripping her own arms with fearful strength. Her body shook in place, like a shiver, but much more violent. Myra's actions were akin to an epileptic seizure.

"Myra. Myra! Myra! Get up, come on girl, we need to get the hell out of here! Please, get up!" It's useless. She's in a pure state of shock. It would take a while before she would return to normal, let alone a state of basic functionality. I'll use this time to run over to Victor and see if he had survived the powerhouse of a kick the monster had given him.

He's curled up next to a tree, somehow conscious, but in a vast amount of evident pain. Hands on his stomach and groaning, he squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to stubbornly ignore his agony. The gash on his head had reopened, blood streaming out of it and wetting his face, making it glisten in whatever moonlight there was available. He was also bleeding on the side he was kicked in, a probable result of broken ribs. Comparatively, Victor was now in a much worse state than I am in.

"I feel like… a sack of shit." He laughed and groaned simultaneously.

"You look like shit." I pulled my upper chest piece off and placed it to the side, then tore off the lower portion of my shirt. With the strip in my mouth, I dragged him to the side of the stream and started washing the wound on his head. This was not ideal first-aid, but I needed to clean and bandage it quickly, otherwise bleeding would be the least of his worries. After a bit of a fuss and struggle from Victor, I finish cleaning his head off to the best of my ability and wind the strip tightly around his head. A blood-red color immediately started to show through the surface of the bandage. I lay him on the side of the stream's bank to rest. It was no proper place to leave a wounded soldier, but it would have to do.

"Fuck, man. That _chupacabra_ tossed me around like a God damned doll." He fidgeted around with his bandage.

"Don't mess with it Vic. –Ahem– But if anything, you took the hit like a champ, I'd say."

"Sugar coat it all you want, I couldn't do shit for either of you."

"You bought us time. God only knows that had there been any less time, maybe those rifle rounds wouldn't have saved us."

"Eh… when you say it like that, being useless doesn't sound too bad. But don't worry Corporal. I'll do a better job next time. Those _putos_ will get what's coming to them." He raises his fist in my direction.

"I'll bet my life on that, Vic. Don't disappoint. Otherwise," I move my right thumb across my neck to imitate slitting my throat, "we're all dead." I chuckled and returned the favor with a fist bump.

"But, bullshit aside… Corporal. Who shot those rounds?"

 **~SLOSH~SLOSH~SLOSH~**

After hearing that sound, I immediately rear backward and pull out my knife, battle ready. I refuse to go down so easily again. My eyes fall on the stream and work their way up to two pairs of boots. UNSC standard issue combat boots, attire that all marines of the Corps are expected to wear as per combat regulations. I sheathe my knife and blow a sigh of relief. The new contacts were friendly.

"Are all of you okay?" Daniels asks as he shoulders his sniper rifle, approaching at a brisk pace. Mud and grime stained both his armor, clothes and face. But no blood was apparent on his person, not even a scratch to indicate a struggle with enemy forces. Daniels was clean.

Miller follows closely behind him, shakily holding a magnum. She scans around us, sharply but timidly. This was her first time holding a gun, anyone could see that. Her gray ONI fatigues were now moist with sweat and forest mildew, making them much darker than usual. The ONI emblem that previously lay prominent on the left of her coat was now clearly torn, hanging by only a few seams. Her blonde hair, which was previously tied up as a neat pony-tail, now lay ruffled and messy atop her shoulders, resting down onto her breasts. Dirt stained her face and clothes, but just like Daniels, no blood. Just like Daniels she lacked any evidence of initial combat. Both of them, by the looks of things, had been absent of the slaughter the rest of the squad endured.

"We're… far from ideal, to put it lightly. Whatever they are, they fucked us up pretty bad Daniels." I reported. My eyes shift across every intricate detail upon them, an attempt to reconcile their possible absence. I do not truly want to believe that they had paraded off into the woods, leaving the rest of us behind.

"Elites." Miller lowered her pistol and stood next to Daniels, both of them still standing in the water. She has yet to actually look at me since we first made contact here. It's as if some kind of invisible burden locks her neck in a downward facing position, like some child acknowledging they'd done something bad.

"What?" I ask.

"They are classified as Elites. The main ground forces of the Covenant, the Sangheili. The forces we encountered here, they're only a scout team. There is most likely more to co-" before she could finish, Miller fell into the water with her hand holding a newly bruised and almost broken jaw. Victor stood over her, fists clenched, chest puffing and a stature carrying a visage of pure anger. He had literally gotten up from the stream bank and proceeded to punch Miller in the face within a matter of five seconds. Impressive to say the least, considering his condition.

"You seem to know _a lot_ about them, _puta_. You mind sharing what the fuck you know with us? My intuition tells me that you knew a lot about this op before the big boys forced you to play baby sitter." Victor huffed out more air from his nostrils.

"Soldier, you are out of li-" Victor pulled out his magnum and planted it firmly on her fore head. Miller's skin was already white. She was paler than the moon in the sky.

"Listen _pendeja_. There are only five of us left. _Five_. Including your worthless ass. I can easily change the remaining survivors to an even _four_. We allowed you to keep us in the dark. We allowed you to walk us into this _blind_. We allowed you to get us s _laughtered_. And you're telling me that _I_ am out of line? Don't even fucking start with me on that shit." I walk over and tap Victor's shoulder, queuing him to calm down. Slowly, I grab his gun and remove it from his hands. He continues to dog Miller, his eyes spelling anger. She looks at him with an equal amount of tenacity, but the emotion being fear. I holster the pistol on myself.

"Vic, go tend to Myra. She's alone over there and a lot worse for wear than any of us. Make yourself useful." He grunts, dogs Miller for a few more seconds and walks away grumbling to himself. I turn to Miller and Daniels.

"Let him cool off. A few more seconds and he would've blown your head clean off, woman." Miller stood back, stumbling in place but regained her footing.

"I… Yes. Thank you. For that." She continued to rub her sore jaw.

"Where were both of you? How could you be so deep into the forest?" It was only a matter of time before this question was to be asked. They were in a perfect position to snipe for us. Matter of fact, if they were here before us, they could've provided covering fire. What reasons could they have?

"We…" Miller started.

"We ran away." Daniels finished. I look at both of them blankly. Then start to smile, and chuckle quietly. It slowly grew into a full blown laugh. The excuse they gave me just now was so damn unbelievable I didn't know what to do. It was like they slapped me in the face, to be honest. This wouldn't be the first time I'd been lied to. _They're lying to me_. Is what I'd like to think. But Daniels' clear, blatant and indifferent tone of voice said otherwise. Not a hint of remorse, if I were to be honest. Not a God damn bit. He didn't even _try_ to make a proper excuse, the bastard gave it to me straight. This _motherfucker_ committed an unforgivable sin, and for all he cares I am a physical manifestation of whatever God he believes in, ready to adhere judgement upon him.

"You. Ran. Away? That's funny Daniels. That's a really good joke. You ran away, while the rest of us were slaughtered? No, you're lying to me," – I tackled him into the water, sitting on top of him and tightly gripping his collar – "YOU RAN AWAY, AND LET THE REST OF YOUR SQUAD DIE!? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!?" I shook him in place. He looks directly into my eyes blankly. Whatever trace of remorse I so desperately searched for, there was none to be found. Miller starts to crawl over as to help get me off of him, but he raises his hand towards her, gesturing her to stop.

"Wait, calm down Corporal. It's-"

"It's _nothing_. You left us. Your squad. Do you know how many of us died? You fucking bastard, I should kill you," – I turn my head towards Miller, glaring at her – "I should do you in too, you fucking bitch!" My hand starts for the pistol in my holster.

"I know. Believe me, I know." He spoke calmly and collected. As if he knew nothing was going to happen. I look directly into his eyes, trying to read him. Trying to understand his actions. They return my gaze, blankly and without any ill intent.

"You… You didn't do anything. You might as well have just watched us get gutted. What the fuck do you mean _you know_?"

"Just because… Corporal. I know." His face tightened, jaw clenched.

"If you knew…" my voice started cracking, "Then why did you do it… Why did you fucking do it?" My grip tightened.

"Because I was scared, Corporal. They came rushing in, guns blazing. Everything happened so quickly. Things went from shit to shittier with every moment. I saw Miller running towards the forest, so I decided to follow her… I couldn't raise my gun. I just couldn't. I should've helped but…" His face loosens, revealing trembling lips. Fucking hell. I couldn't blame him for their deaths, I'd be a hypocrite. If I had the choice I would have run away too. Far, far away from this shit hole of a situation. I would want to find solace. Who wouldn't? Hell, if Myra could, I'm sure she would've run away. No doubt she would've. I'd be a God damned hypocrite to take out my anger on them for their actions. What right do I have? I got off of him and stood straight up, offering my hand to help him up. He takes it and helps himself up.

"I'm… sorry. That was to over the top. I… I understand," I proceeded to turn to Miller as well, "I apologize on Vic's behalf. He shouldn't have hit you, it was unnecessary. And I shouldn't have threatened you. I'm sorry, sir." All three of us stand in silence, the tension still very present. None of us are able to look at each other. Another minute or two passes before Miller says something.

"It's… okay. He has a right to be angry, both of you do. Because we shouldn't have run and… he wasn't wrong." Daniels and I look at her with question.

"What do you mean?" Daniels asked.

"This operation, I'm sure both of you could tell, is a bit more than just… forward recon," we both nodded in agreement, "In truth. I wanted to reveal more to your CO, Sarge. Command knew they were letting all of you walk into this half-baked." She shakes her head as she speaks then looks at us again.

"ONI has had suspicions of Covenant activity in this sector for at least a month now, but we weren't sure. Covenant stealth tech pretty much kept them under the radar. ONI Central Command treated this situation as a chore more than an operation. Even though we should've gave this uncertainty more care – more caution – we decided to be careless. All because we thought Reach was off their grid."

"And the supposed LZ?" I ask.

"It's more or less a small supply station that went dark months ago. It wasn't a serious installation, but it was one that kept consistent contact with your HQ. Silence from them, it being in this sector, couldn't be neglected completely. We prompted your squad to investigate."

"So it was never a question of whether there was enemy activity? Why not just tell us what's going on?" Daniels walks over to the stream's bank and sits in the sand.

"Yes. We knew there was something going on, but we did not want to assume it was Covenant. Informing your entire squad would have been a breach of ONI protocols, I was meant to keep this under wraps. We – _They_ – did not want the possibility of rumors being spread. Infrastructural panic among the ranks was not a desired result."

"And look where the fuck that got us… My question is why they sent _you_." I look at her quizzically.

"I'm a Survey Analysist. I was to observe our findings and make sure that all reports are accurate. I am their eyes on the ground." She shuffled in place, eyes looking off to the left. Her body language indicated she had more to say, but preferred to hide it.

"Well we've done our 'survey'. What does our analysist say?" Daniels spoke grimly.

"I was hoping I could file this under more insurrection activity."

"But now we know that's definitely not the fucking case. Miller, you're ONI, you know exactly what we have to do now." I look at her sternly. She returns with her green eyes. They spell out fear as bright as the sun during the day.

"Yes… I do. We need to relay to HQ that this is, by no stretch of the imagination, a Winter Contingency." She shuffles her hands together.

"Wait, hold on, this is no invasion force. This planet may not even be of interest to the Covenant. It's too… out of the way." Daniels tries to plead with logic.

"We both know that's not true. The Covenant would not have gone surface-side otherwise. Besides," Miller kneeled down into the water, hand gliding in the stream, "Now that the Covenant have knowledge of humans habitually living here, it is a clear target for glassing." I clench my teeth. I had never thought of it that way. Covenant invasion, sure. Cities might be destroyed, lives would be lost, but rebounding from that would _still_ be possible. But if they glassed the planet…

"Alright then. If we're gonna get to that post, moving _now_ is priority number one."


	7. Chapter 08

**08**

After a few rough hours of travel, the sun begins to rise, its beams of light slowly pouring through the trees along the horizon. We decide to rest along the stream to recuperate. Being that our food supplies are little to none, following our only source of water is the only reasonable course of action in our eyes. I stand in the middle of the stream and refill my canteen while kneeling into the water. The still freezing water soaks my pants, giving my aching legs some mild relief, but only giving me brief distraction from the real pain troubling my body. The Medigel applied to me was only a temporary solution, so my ribs were still broken, making every breath a wheezing and unavoidable burden. In reality there is no proper way to address my fractures, so strong arming the injury is my only option at the moment. I release the straps on my ballistic chest piece to give my lungs some more air. As soon as the plate comes off I am greeted with a sudden and pleasing breeze. I exhume a large gasp of air and take in an even deeper breath, feeling my lungs expand freely. All of it still hurt like hell, but it was nothing compared to the initial stages of the pain. Since the explosion.

I look over and see Myra walk to the stream and fall into it on her knees. She shoves her face into the water, then begins taking large gulps. After a few seconds, she raises her head out of the water, breathing heavily.

"You okay, Myra?" I walk over and hand her a towel I have stored in my right pocket. She waves it away politely.

"I… I don't know. How the fuck am I supposed to feel, Corporal?" She looks into my eyes, her own stained red from crying. I've seen people shaken up, decimated emotionally. Combat does that to people, several times I've seen someone throw up after seeing their first body. Some people can't even stand up a week after combat, give or take the injuries. But what we went through wasn't combat. What we experienced was a God-damned massacre. Not something I'd like to see on my first assignment, but unlike Myra, I was fortunate enough to be eased into the blood and guts. She was dropped head first into hell, and the demons got their hands on her not too long after.

"Terrified. Frightened. By now, you should've shit your pants. Respect to you for holding up this far." I proceed to sit down on the bank next to her. She crawls backwards and lay next to me, covering her eyes with her helmet. She was still shaking.

"What was your first assignment like? Nothing like this, I would hope." Her voice recedes as she speaks, resting down to a soft tone. She was trying to calm herself down.

"Heh… not even close. Matter of fact, I didn't hold a rifle on my first assignment," Shit. My rifle was still at the outpost, "Military Police, New Mombasa. I was playing guard duty for some UNSC Correctional Facility. Most boring post I've ever had." It's been a while since I last talked about this. The last person who heard this story was… Hitch.

"You're from Earth?" She gets up and turns to me, left knee up and arm resting atop it.

"Yeah… it's been eight years now. The only time I ever see her is on holovids or on those 'Remember Her' posters stuck up everywhere back at HQ." It's really been that long? I never actually tracked the time that went by since I was shipped out here.

"Is that where you first… saw combat?" She asks.

"On Earth? Oh no. My first time seeing the bullets fly was on Tribute, cleaning up remnants of the Insurrection."

"You were on Tribute? So that means… you were cleaning up TREBUCHET." Myra's face lights up a little.

"Something like that, yeah. I don't actually know the details, but all I know is that there were several untouched cells left there and we were meant to put them down," It felt more like _killing civilians_ to be brutally honest. But there's no way could I bring myself to say it like that, "They put up a fight, but it only lasted a day or two." Another lie. _We put them down like sick dogs_. All I knew about TREBUCHET was that it was a very heavy handed operation meant to deal with the insurrection in the Outer Rim. Shortly after the start of the Covenant war, TREBUCHET ended abruptly in order to reassign military forces to the front lines. Whatever cells remained active, my unit was tasked to silence and mediate. I say mediate, but it was definitely along the lines of slaughtering anyone whom had previous association with 1st Class level Insurrection based assets. In short, many died without trial and jury. But it was beyond my pay-grade to ask questions. That doesn't mean what I did was right, though. Far from it.

"Were you… did you end up like me?"

"Like what?"

"Shattered, broken or shitty. Feeling useless, like every moment could kill you. Maybe even all of the above." Her eyes fell to the water streaming past us.

"I… no. I did not. It was a well-organized op, our objective and motions were dead locked. The blood spilled those days were more theirs than ours. My time there taught me to deal with it slowly." At least I released _some of the truth_.

"That's completely different from me then…" She cradles her head into her arms.

"But look at you, despite the hell we've been through, it's a blessing you haven't dropped the ball and left the game yet." She laughs in response.

"But God only knows I want to, Corporal. I don't want to do this sir. I knew the Covenant war was going on, but I never intended to go through something like this…"

"No one does. No one can plan on something like this, marine. That's why they give us rifles – quick tools of improvised diplomacy." I stand up, taking another deep breath.

"How are you still acting so calmly? You've never even met the Covenant." Myra spoke a bit louder now, gleaming at me. I bring my hand forward, offering to help her up. The fact of the matter is, I'm not calm. What she sees is purely superficial, it's what's inside that I refuse to let out. Fear. Despair. Self-spite. The training they give us in boot-camp can only prepare you for the physical hardships. It's experience that teaches you the real face of war. It teaches you that friends are only friends in the barracks, but liabilities or assets on the field. That bravery and stupidity go hand in hand. That the trigger at your finger puts another being's life into your hands. That no matter what, your life is always on the line. Other soldiers get better at shooting their weapons after a couple years in service. I got better at hiding my cowardice.

"Covenant. No Covenant. It doesn't matter. All we can do is point our weapons forward to ensure we live for tomorrow. Do it for family, do it for money, it's up to you. I keep going because I don't want to die." I was never the best at giving advice, but this should suffice in satisfying her inquiry. She grabs my hand and helps herself up.

"Is that how you always look at things?" I stare into the water for a few seconds before answering.

"It's the only way I can. The UNSC bred us to fight, so giving up is the last thing on our to-do list. Keep your head up kid." She smiles at me, accepting my words of encouragement.

"You're not even that much older than me, Corporal."

"But I've got experience riding on my back, so you're still a kid to me." She turns away from me, a sullen look on her face took over.

"What if we don't..?" She began.

"We will. I can promise that much. You've got nothing to worry about Myra, you got Vic and Daniels watching your back. And me, too." I punch her shoulder, offering more affirmation. Although I didn't even believe myself, she needed to hang onto something. Even if it's a lie, it will be enough.

Victor called out to us, telling us that we're moving out again. I started for him, but Myra grabbed my shoulder.

"Corporal… thanks, sir."

"For what?" She smiles and starts walking towards Victor. Puzzled, I follow her onward.

* * *

We all walk in a line formation, Victor taking up the front, me following him and the rest trailing behind, Daniels being the very last. As far as weaponry went, we all only had our pistols, Daniels' sniper rifle and two frag grenades – both on my utility belt. As far as we are concerned, this is not even close to being sufficient enough to deal with the possibility of more Elites. The only reason Daniels' was able to take clean shots was because they were unaware of his presence. My intuition tells me that an opportunity like that would not present itself again.

The path we followed led us to a cliff side that ran parallel along the beach head. The cliff itself stood at least 100 feet tall, looming over the dark sand like a great jagged wall. The base of the cliff itself remained inward while the rest grew out, forming an outward slant. With these details in mind, we can at least feel a bit safe from any possible attack along the beach. Our plan is to follow the coast up to the supply post that Miller had mentioned back in the forest. According to her, the post lay atop a rocky isle that was separated from the mainland by a shallow body of water. Our chances of meeting no resistance is close to zero, but regardless, getting there was a top priority. The relay station held within the facility was our main concern. As long as we could transmit our message, the objective was complete. It sounds easy on paper, but my doubts precede my hopes. Getting there was one thing, but getting there alive was definitely another.

"How're we on food?" I pant as we walk up a small hill. My lungs were killing me. Or my ribs. Either way, it was agonizing.

"I've still got one or two rations left in my waist pack, we can split that between us." Daniels reports. The rest have nothing.

"Tch… that's not good. We'll have to make due. There's nothing very edible out here." I said.

"What about the ocean?" Miller adds.

"Two problems with that sweet heart. One, there's no _safe_ way down there. Two, we don't have anything to catch food with." Vic refutes sharply, his voice still holding animosity towards Miller. I lean to the left to see Daniels' lift his sniper rifle, proposing it as a sufficient fishing device, but I shake my head towards him in response.

"Then we'll just have to keep walking and hope food comes raining down from the sky." I announce to everyone. They all groan in response but kept moving forward anyway. Conditions for us were far from ideal, but for the time being no Covenant was on us.

Our travels eventually led into a small canyon, ten or fifteen feet in width while being hundreds of feet long. Going around was no option as it was a simple dead drop on either side. And none of us have the strength to climb down. We enter the canyon at a steady and cautious pace. As far as I can tell, the canyon itself was void of any motile life, save a few insects. Deeper in, we find ourselves at least eighty or ninety feet below the canyon top. The sunlight shines brightly along the left side, but the right casts a shadow over us. Closer examination of the rocks reveal small burrows for rodent and arthropod like creatures, their size much larger than I would prefer. For the most part, they stay non-hostile, only stopping their routine to stick their shiny, multi-faceted eyes on us for a few seconds only to return back to its former duties. These are the details I decipher as I keep my eyes glued to the edges of the canyon. No Covenant to be seen.

We walk through the rocky hall in a close but awkward formation; I took the rear this time, Vic and Myra took the center, Miller ahead of them and Daniels taking the lead. Only one or two feet stood between each of us. The part that makes me the most uncomfortable, however, is the silence. This was no silence of respect to the nature around us, no, that was null and void. Aside from the creatures crawling over our heads, there was nothing serene about our surroundings at all. No, this was a silence of alertness. Each of us knows that at any moment, those nasty bastards could come and shower some nice, hot plasma at us at any time. That any of us could fall onto the ground as a limp and very dead body. I walk with my hands at my sides, swinging in normal fashion, but every pass at the holster was rigid and coarse. I want to be ready for the next onslaught, not surprised or startled. I refuse to let another one of my marines die. This, I feel, is the same as everyone else. This was a silence of vigilance. Caution. Fear.

After a few more minutes of quiet marching, I bring my eyes forward to see what lay ahead. The end of the canyon resides farther than my eyes can see, so we still have a ways to go. Bringing my vision in towards the group, I see that Daniels has taken a position farther ahead than the rest of us. He turns his head to the side, catching a glimpse of all of us. As we make eye contact, he waves his hand over, signaling me to take a position at his side. I respond by jogging over.

"What's going on?" I ask.

"Nothing, it's just, I think we should be up ahead. In case anything happens." He replies, softer than usual.

"Like what?"

"Anything." A quick and stern response. I comply and walk side by side with him. Looking back, I see Victor had struck some conversation with the two women, somehow maintaining a friendlier than normal nature with Miller. Myra smacked the back of his head for having said something crude. I chuckle to myself.

Minutes pass as we walk, eyes glance up and down, and hands stay ready. But there is yet to be any action. These quiet moments continue to make me more and more edgy. Being enclosed in this canyon makes me feel more vulnerable than I have ever been before. Hell, I even felt safer out alongside the cliff. At least there I could see what was coming. Here, we were fish in a barrel. Meat walking the line to the slaughterhouse.

"I never wanted this, you know." I turn to him, startled at the sudden break in silence. He keeps his eyes forward as he speaks, continuously watching for the enemy to be.

"Wanted what? To be attacked by Covenant?"

"No… To be a marine." The grip on his sniper tightens as he speaks. He straightens his posture.

"What do you mean?"

"I only joined because I was angry, because of the attacks. I wanted some form of respite, or redemption you could say." His eyes briefly look in my direction, revealing a sort of sadness. This was new to me, as Daniels rarely shared any form of backstory with anyone. Let alone me.

"Redemption for what?"

"For being useless," he paused and took a breath, "The attacks on New Carthage. The very first bombings and shootings, I was in the middle of it. All I could do was hide and cry. The screaming, the blood. I couldn't do anything." His jaw tightens, anger being wrought out in his cheeks. His brow furrows as well, a stamp of frustration and regret resting on his visage.

"Don't tell me you blame yourself for that." I said.

"No, of course not. That would be stupid. The Insurrectionists did that of their own accord. But I'm angry because at that time, I could do _nothing_ for the people that needed help." The tone of his voice said otherwise. The sorrow, anger and hatred of his voice sullied his usually calm demeanor. I'm not sure what happened, but his past cuts deep in him, staining whatever righteous image he could possibly have for himself.

"So, what, you joined the UNSC to redeem yourself? I never thought you to be the self-righteous type."

"Don't you know Corporal? The Chinese are very proud and honest people. One of our greatest tales involves redemption. I think." He smiles in my direction, suddenly cutting off the previous emotions. But as far as I can tell, it was only cursory.

"But still… why the UNSC? You're smart. You could've done so much more." Again, he smiles.

"I guess, for me, this is the only way I can see things done right. Warrior's code, you could say. To correct a wrong by the blade, you must do right by the blade." As he says this, he pauses his walk and raises his rifle into an aiming position. He mimes firing the weapon, producing fake recoil and mouthing a -boom- silently. He continues walking.

"I'm not sure why you're telling me this, Daniels. I don't- you're not telling me your God-damned testimony are you? Famous last words." I spoke with both humor and concern, even a bit angry. These were not things I want to hear, at least not from him.

"Ha. No, of course not. Look around, Corporal, nothing is going to kill us. At least not yet. Leave that type of stuff to Victor." He laughs it off, glancing my concern to the side.

"I've always imagined it though. How my name would look on a UNSC Placard, a tribute to the dead. The name 'Daniels' in nice, bold letters. Service tag: D444. It would bring my family great honor," He stares at the floor for a few seconds, "I think my… Mother would be very proud." His voice shook briefly at the mention of his mother. For a moment you could mistake it for grief, his eyes watering to add onto it. He breathed in deeply and soldiered on.

"Say, now that I think about it… why Daniels? That's your last name. You always told us to call you by your last name. What's your first name?" He looks over head, pondering my question for a few seconds, as if the answer to it were a sacred thing, and could not be bestowed upon just anyone. After a few more seconds, he turns his head my way.

" _Xuéxí_. My full name is _Xuéxí_ Daniels. Name made by my father, proudly spoken by my mother." His look is stern, proud and regretful. My understanding of his circumstances is minimal, but it is apparent that pain shadows his past.

" _Xuéxí_... _Xuéxí_ … am I saying that right? Hey, what does that even mea-" Before I could finish my question, he jerks his fist into the air. Everyone stops immediately and un-holsters their pistols, ready to fire. Daniels scans the canyon top above us, the sun glaring down onto his face as he raises his head little by little. His eyes freeze on one spot and widen, surprised by their discovery.

"Get down!" He pushes me off to the side, a bright green bolt of energy creating a divide and burning the ground between us, sizzling loudly after the impact. Now planted on the floor, I look up to see where the shot came from. I discover a nimble and bird-like but humanoid creature standing atop the canyon edge, a pistol of some sort in its right hand and a bright-blue and glowing shield on its left. It wore dark, synthetic leather type armor on its torso and legs, its feathered arms and feather-mohawk head left bare. The head itself was an anomaly, long and raptor like with sharp teeth lining the sides of both the upper and lower jaw. Although it was no larger than a man, it was terrifying in its own right. In a quick motion, it brings its arms down and raises its jowls into the air, creating a loud and ear-splitting screech, calling to its allies. Daniels raises his rifle in the howling monstrosity's direction and fires off a shot. The body of the nimble creature falls over the side and down on the rocks a dozen feet away from us, a loud snap accompanying its impact.

"Run! Jackals!" Miller screams as she begins to sprint forward. I turn around to check on the rest of the squad only to see a terrifying sight unfold behind them. Only twenty yards away, three Elites in blue armor snake out of their invisibility cloaks and draw out what look like blue assault rifles. This sight increases my heart beat, loudening the pulse in my ears and creating a deafening sporadic rhythm of bumps. The edges of my sight darken, narrowing my vision and nauseating me, like I'm about to black out. I don't want to move, I'm frightened. Why can't they just leave us alone? Fucking hell.

They raise their weapons in our direction and begin to open fire.

Having taken pause to observe the thrilling spectacle behind us, I have fallen behind the group. Hastily, I get up and begin sprinting after them. To buy us time, I pull the pin on one of my grenades and toss it at the Elites. Two of them jump forward, well past the blast of the grenade, but the one in the middle took the full brunt of its impact. It flew backwards in a sporadic motion, screaming loudly in a garbled way then lay motionless after rolling on the ground. I slide myself into a stop to turn around and lay down a couple shots from my magnum, then return to sprinting after missing every single fucking round. Bolts showered from the top of the canyon, a splendor of blue and green flying at the floor and past us. It's a wonder as to how none of us have been hit. But this blessing didn't last long.

"Ah, shit!" Daniels shouts. A large green bolt planted itself into his right shoulder, leaving a heated and scorched mess of his shoulder plate, revealing red flesh. He falls onto the floor, supporting himself with only his sniper rifle. Miraculously, he spins around and fires off a round, resulting in another body of a Jackal descending onto the floor. The look that took over his face was strained and tight, not one of pain but of evident anger. He looks down and sees the Elites trailing behind us, a scour replacing his face. Ignoring the pain from the energy blast, he staggers himself into a standing position and proceeds to continue running. Of all the things Daniels has done to impress me, that was at the top of the list.

Only a hundred yards away resides the exit of the canyon, tall large rocks acting as its sentinels. Between them only a little bit of wiggle room to squeeze through, making it significantly difficult to make a hasty exit. I turn and fire a few shots overhead, making pin point bullseyes on some rocks, but missing my intended targets. Aside from already being on the move, my increasing exhaustion made it very difficult to steady my aim. I turn around and see that we approached the exit, only several dozen yards left. Suddenly without warning, Daniels falls into me, staggering both of us into the wall. Letting the others past us, I help myself then Daniels up, both of us releasing some shots down range at the Elites behind us in an attempt to buy more time. My rounds landed but did little to no damage while Daniels' only grazed the leg of one of them. They approach us with terrifying and, inherently, inhumane speed. We start for the exit as well, seeing that the Miller and Myra had already slid through the exit, Vic right behind them.

"Even if we all get through there, it'll only be a matter of time before they get to us again." Daniels spoke, his breath rigid and heavy.

"I know, but we still have to try. It doesn't matter."

"The way I see it, it's pretty much futile to keep running." Daniels turns and shoots another round, then catches up with me again.

"Don't think that way, if we work together, we can make it." I pant the words out of my mouth as we make it to the mouth of the exit.

"That's why I like you, sir. You and Hitch always saw the silver lining," He smiles as we come to a stop, "You go first, I'll cover you." Nodding at his suggestion, I start to slide through, the rocks scraping at my stomach. It was a slow, too slow, process but I make it through. I turn to Daniels, ready to help him through only to be greeted by a smile. He tosses me something. After catching it, I open my hand to reveal the remaining rations he said he still had. When I look back up, he was pulling the pin on the grenade that I thought remained on my belt.

"It's futile if we _all_ keep running. I'll buy us some time, Corporal. Enjoy the meal." He winks at me and tosses the grenade into the air.

"Wait, no! Daniels, NO!" I scream reaching for him only to be pulled back by Miller and Victor. The grenades detonation loosens the rocks that lay atop the sentinel pillars which then came crashing down between us, sealing the exit and forever separating Daniels from us. In a fit of both rage and unprecedented remorse, I scream and slam on the floor, shouting his name repeatedly and numbing my hands. I grab the dirt around me and throw it around, punching the ground and bleeding my knuckles.

 _I could do nothing for the people that needed help_.

You God-damned fool. This is no time to be a hero. You were supposed to survive. You got your fucking wish Daniels. You saved us.

* * *

As the rocks crash down, my view of the Corporal disappears in the rubble and dust. The canyon had become darker for me, the shadows of the rocks towering over. Slowly I turn around, cradling my rifle in my hands. I pull the chamber back to inspect my lead count. One bullet.

My breathing is rugged, but steady. Silently, I wait for my attackers to approach. Two large Elites, clad in blue armor, sprint in my direction with nothing but pure animosity. The one furthest ahead threw its rifle to the side and flicks its right wrist, a small blade of energy protruding from the upper portion of his wrist guard. In one bound he makes one ferocious leap towards me, rearing his blade hand back, ready to stab me mid-air. I raise my rifle into the air. Taking a deep breath, I zero in on his face. Finger on the trigger, arms locked, I pull. The blast of the barrel produces a large and shocking recoil into my shoulder, simultaneously creating a thunderous echo in the canyon. The bright orange flames of the rifle blossom in front of me, sending a white and gaseous stream ahead, the round blazing right through the Elites head, splattering the rocks behind him with purple blood and sending the limp body to the floor.

" _I am the learned one_." I say to myself in Chinese. Immediately I start sprinting at the other Elite.

"Wort, wort, wort!" It shouts, frantically raising its weapon. In a quick manner, I flip the sniper around and grab it by the barrel, turning it into a large metal club. Approaching the Elite, I spin around with the makeshift club's head outwards, giving the predicted impact more momentum. The stock of the rifle lands directly into the monster's face, staggering him backwards in a fit of pain and rage. Using the momentum gained, I draw my knife and tackle the Elite into the ground, firmly planting my knife into its neck, only to bring the blade out and thrust back in with even more force. Helplessly, it gargles its blood, some of it splurging out of its mouth and peppering my own face. It was both disgusting and satisfying. Its flavor bitter and metallic.

" _Having been wronged by the blade_ …" I recite further. Rearing backwards, I lift the Elite's upper body in front of me, using it as a meat shield. I pull my magnum out of my holster and start firing at the Jackals up above me, adding several more bodies to my kill count. Down range, a few more Elites accompanied by some Jackals were sprinting this direction.

 **-POW-POW-POW-** More Jackals fall from the top. Their green energy bolts slowly shredding and cooking the body of the Elite I hold. After three more shots, the magnum clicks. My last round expended, I drop the body and made for its rifle.

" _I will do right by the blade_." After picking it up, I feel around the apparatus of the device, searching for any trigger like mechanism. Having found what seems to be what I desire, I fire a few shots from the rifle. Hot plasma scorches the rock in front of me. Satisfied with my experiment, I sprint towards the mass of soldiers down the canyon, plasma rifle raised their direction and releasing a volley of plasma their way. Several of the shots were able to kill two Jackals, but the Elites dove out the way, closing in on my position. With trigger held down for so long, it seems as though the weapon has over heated, losing its immediate functionality. In a desperate attempt, I pick up the closest rock and run towards them with malicious intent. My actions were met with immediate and deadly force.

The leading Elite, armored in dark orange plating, roars as it jumps into the air and kicks me in the face. The impact launches me several feet backwards, dislodging some of my teeth. When I land, I roll backwards and slide into a stop. Slowly getting up, I cough up some blood. My own blood. Although my vision is hazy, I spot my knife on the ground next to one of the bodies. I crawl towards it, and attempt to reach for it but before I could even touch the blade, my wrist gets crushed under the foot of the orange monstrosity. It picks me up by the throat and pins me onto the rocky wall. Losing air, I struggle with the grip of the Elite, clawing at its hand. It brought its face closer to mine, breathing hot air onto my face. Knowing I have little to lose, I spit blood into its face. It wipes its face quickly and angrily then brings it back to mine.

" _GRRRAAAGH!_ " It roars loudly, violently creating vibrations in my ear drums.

 _ **~KSSHHHH~**_ A warm but painful feeling pierces my stomach. With its grip loosening on my neck, I look down to inspect the new sensation. A beautiful, white blade of energy firmly cut into my gut. I touch the blade, my gloves being greeted with a quiet sizzling. The Elite pulls it out of my body and throws me to the side. With what little energy I have left, I lay myself upwards to face the sky. A nice, beautiful, blue sky. A breeze flows downward, cooling off the hot skin on my face. It felt like sweet relief to the arduous journey I've been going through. But guilt still flows in me. What I'm doing here is not fair to the rest of my squad, for I can rest while they must push forward. I'm sorry, Corporal, Vic, Myra. Hell, even Miller. Sorry I can't finish the mission with the rest of you. But this is as far as I go.

 _I'm proud of you_. I think my mother would say. Yes. Of course she would, she loves me. I love her. What mother wouldn't be proud of a hero? I think she'll greet me well once I see her. I'll be able to greet her and the rest of my family without the shame in my heart. They'll be able to see a brave warrior, not a coward.

" _I am Xuéxí, the learned one_." I whisper to myself. With this, I'll be able to apologize to them for New Carthage. This is a proper reunion.

 **我学会了**

 **刀片一直致力于得罪我**

 **我是公** **义的刀片**

 **我叫学** **习**

 **我学会了**


	8. Chapter 09

**09**

It was a white room connected to an open corner kitchen. The eastern section was the living room, the western being the kitchen and the center dividing both with a square dining table. A majority of the accenting features of this portion of the home were white; the couches, countertops, kitchen appliances and coffee table. Anything not part of this unit was black; the dining table, the picture frames, T.V. and chairs. It was a room of pure contrast, as if the morals of a court room were personified in the decorum of the home. The illumination provided came from the open windows on the northern wall, two to be exact. One above the kitchen sink and one that hangs parallel to the dining table. The biggest source of light, though, was the sliding glass doors on the eastern most wall that led to the balcony. Two people resided within the home.

An elderly woman, maybe in her eighties, sat on one of the white couches, the three seater to be specific. She stares at the T.V. while simultaneously knitting something that is beyond recognition at that point in time. She wore a large and baggy dress that rested comfortably on her body, it bore warm colors of red, orange and pink, each of which was set in circular or zig-zag pattern. Atop her shoulders comfortably rested a brown shawl.

At the dining table sat a much younger girl, probably eighteen at most. She wore green pajama pants and a pink blouse, her long brown hair messy but tied in a pony-tail. She fixes her thickly rimmed glasses as she scribbles down intangible notes inside her red notebook, numbers and letters signifying her fervent study of arithmetic. Her brows are raised as she thinks deeply about the problem she works on. An air of innocence and purity flows through out the air, emanating from both the girl and the elderly woman.

"Good morning citizens of Pirth! It is Friday, February 8th, 2531! We've got some great news for you today! But first, your weather forecast…" The morning newscaster gentleman spoke with great enthusiasm, but recognizably superficial to anyone. The elderly woman adjusts her seating, scoffing at the laughable manner of the man. After a few minutes pass, she turns her head towards the younger girl.

" _Nina_ , you don't have school today?" Her voice is somewhat grumbly, but still has a motherly accent to it, one that could soothe you just by hearing it.

"No _Abuelita_ , its Saturday. Day off, I'm only studying for now." She throws her pencil down and walks over to the fridge, pulls out a water bottle and takes a few gulps of water. After wiping her face, she returns to the table, places the water to the side and continues to write.

"…And as for today, expect a _very_ sunny day! Expect nothing but clear skies." The newscaster spoke, again, with unrivaled enthusiasm and a smile to match. The elderly lady put her knitting tools down and brought the T.V. remote forward, flipping through several channels only to stop at a cooking show. A lady dressed in an awkwardly ruffled blue dress and yellow apron guided her audience through the process of baking a cake, a bright smile on her face as well. The woman returned to knitting, slowly nodding off here and there as time passes. At least three hours pass until she reached a full on slumber, still remaining in a sitting position, her hands resting on her lap.

The young girl looks over at her and smiles, leaving the room only to return with a blanket to cover the woman with. After completing her task, she opens the sliding doors and walks outside onto the balcony, taking a deep breath in and observing her surroundings. She is surrounded by white sky scrapers. The tallest of these buildings was the UEG Embassy, standing well over a thousand meters. It proudly displayed the flags of the many colonies, factions and groups allied with the UEG, its own flag accompanied by the UNSC banner sitting at the very top. It stood as a monument of unified peace and harmony, the result of centuries of negotiations and conflict.

The home the girl resided in herself is placed on the forty-sixth story of the living complex, several dozen more above. The cars and people passing below her looked as the equivalent of small insects. She stretches her arms out into the air, taking in some more of the Pirth'ian air, crossing and resting her arms over the railing after relieving herself of stiff muscles. Her stature resembles one of content, a face of serenity to accompany.

Then a loud rumble shakes her building, and the ones around her. She falls back onto the glass doors, bewildered at the sudden disruption.

"What the…" Before she finishes, her eyes rise to the sky. Dark, gray clouds began to form, swooping in very slowly from every direction. Among the clouds are flashes of purple and blue light, strikes of lightning forming within the clouds as well. The sight brings both curiosity and fear to the girl.

"I thought… the reporter said… it would be clear skies today." The elderly woman, now awakened, brings her eyes to the T.V. screen, now silent and only having a still image on it; the UNSC emblem sitting prominently in the center with the words _**Please Stand By**_ placed below. Fairly disgruntled, the woman throws off her blanket and hobbles herself next to the young girl standing on the balcony. Both of them are now staring at the sky, conforming to the thousands of people among them experiencing the same event. The clouds have closed in more tightly now, making a clear and large apex over the city, revealing what little blue sky there was to see. Both the woman and girl embrace each other, frightened at the series of occurring events.

Not even a minute passes before the girl sees the great silver and curvy monstrosity form in the sky. With an extremely loud and reverberant shock and boom that made even the sky scrapers tremble, a Covenant CCS-Class Battlecruiser zoomed into view overhead the city. Within seconds, a scramble of different Covenant war machines swarmed out of the central hull of the ship, plasma bolts and torpedoes showering the structures below during their descent, razing everything below them. The dark gray clouds finally began to swirl below the head of the Battlecruiser, closing at an apex, obscuring the ship itself. Then in a bright flash of light, the clouds disperse in every direction, a large and destructive beam of energy erecting from the head of the ship. The laser decimated the thousand meter tall Embassy, toppling it into the ground and sending a cloud of dust and concrete into the streets below. The beam did not falter, however, and continued to make its way in a straight line to the adjacent building, first tearing its side to shreds until the entire structure is consumed in a bright curtain of deliverance. The entire city is now swarming with Covenant forces, little resistance being offered to them. The casualty count rises.

"Oh my God." The girl cries. Both her and the woman retreat into their home. A screaming plasma torpedo follows them in, destroying the white room and kitchen. All that is left: black ash.

* * *

One hour. Twenty-six minutes. And nine seconds. This is the time that has passed since we left Daniels to die. Since we left _Xuéxí_ to die a stupid but righteous death. He had no right to sacrifice himself. To leave us. To abandon us. But that's a lie. What he did was, as far as we are concerned, strategically apt. It would've been only a matter of time after leaving the canyon that the Covenant would have caught up with us, shot us down and hung our bodies up to dry. Daniels was always a calculating bastard. I don't know for how long he'd been planning to do it, but it was too late to stop him now. He's dead. The thought nauseates me, almost twice as much as it did when I saw Hitch go up into bright splendor. At least I got to see how he was yanked off the story board. With Daniels, my imagination goes wild. Quick death? Dismemberment? Head shot? Impalement? Torture? There are a number of scenarios, some of which I haven't listed, that play out in my mind when I think about his death, each one less gratifying than the next. How the fuck could he die with a smile on his face? It's not fair. We were supposed to make it together. All of us. And now were down to four.

"This is fucked up man." Victor spoke with such spontaneity that it startles all of us, breaking our mourning silence. Everyone stops their movement and raise their heads to him.

"Vic, I-"

"No. Don't say anything. There's nothing any of us can say. Nothing we can do to make this any better." He hunkers down in a slouched posture, his hands now clenched into fists, palms turning white. I walk over to him and put my hand on his shoulder. I see that a minute but significant stream of tears has begun to stream down his face, which honestly surprised me, but I understood. These aren't just tears mourning the death of a friend, but tears over a dreadful reality. Three marines and one sad excuse for a soldier. We barely have enough ammo to take out one or two Elites, let alone an entire battalion of them. One of us is emotionally distressed, another whom has been bottling up their emotions as tightly as a God-damned jar, one more who has little to no field experience and another who can barely keep himself together in order to "lead" the rest of them. It's all a fucking mess, and Victor realizes this. We all do.

"Vic, we have to keep going. We have to."

"And for what? We're not gonna make it. Not a single one of us. Those fuckin' _chupacabras_ are gonna tracks us down and do us in before we even get there. We should grab our guns and shoot ourse-" A loud slap echoes in the air, ironically creating a silence and painting Victor's left cheek red. Myra stands in front of him, shoulders trembling but a posture stating that she clearly disapproves of Victor's statements. Her brow furrows and lips tremble, fists clenched and face directed at Victor's own. The Myra that was previously known to be frightened was now unveiled as an entirely different type of person. One would call this display a triumph of righteous anger over disemboweling fear. Even Victor felt the immense shift in her personality. Before he could say anything she raises her finger at him in a quick and stern motion.

"You bastard. How dare you. We're all trying our fucking best not to fall apart. Trying to not give up so that we can give the rest of this fucking planet a chance. Your squad ma- No. Your _friend_ sacrificed himself so that _we_ could stand a chance. And you want to kill yourself? You're a God-damned disgrace." Her voice was simultaneously filled with anger, grief and disappointment. We all feel the gravity of her words, regardless of whether or not we agree with what Victor says. I feel a knot form in my throat and a crude tightening in my chest that restricted my breathing, both felt like black holes ready to consume me in utter despair. I wanted to cry, because for a moment I actually felt like it was okay to give up. As if I could leave this burden to someone else once I die. But this was simply a lie. This was another fucking excuse just to keep more blood off my hands. Or better yet, to excuse myself from the responsibilities I hold. First Hitch. Then Daniels. Next an entire planet. I haven't changed since Tribute. Not one bit. I'm a coward.

Victor takes a deep breath inside and punches himself in the face. Silence follows.

"You're right _senorita_. I have no right to say any bullshit like that. I… I don't know what I was thinking." I step forward and begin to say something myself.

"No, you do. We all know what you were thinking. Because we're thinking the same thing," I look around at the other two girls, their gazes confirming my suspicions, "We all want to give up. Take the tags off and raise the white flag. But we also know we can't. That if we stop here, we condemn everyone else. As long as we understand that what we're doing is more important than any of us, we'll be just fine. What's the saying? Yeah. The right path has never been the easy one." I speak with a confidence that is only skin deep. I am just as scared, if not more so, as the rest of them. Just as weak. Just as helpless. But someone has to push us forward, or the demons behind us will catch up and end our valiant crusade. Substitute valiant with pathetic and it's a more accurate description. Regardless, moving forward, no matter how frightened or terrified, we have to keep on. Even if every step ultimately leads to our deaths.

After three hours of walking, ducking into cover and scavenging or hunting, pitifully I should add, we all finally realize how beaten down and exhausted our bodies are. The throbbing at my ribs were rebounding, reminding me that my body was far from tip-top condition. Victor's head wound is healing, if only a little bit, but it was still causing him to fade in and out of consciousness as we move. He relies more on the trees and rocks around us to support him rather than his own legs. As for Miller, well, she's just a field soldier's nightmare. Her body was not trained for frontline combat, let alone walking for miles without proper supplements and rest, regardless of the rest of us, she's likely to be the first to go from pure exhaustion. Everything originally feminine and sexy about her has also dissipated, becoming more primal but not savage. Her blank green eyes now display a clear and prominent emotion: fear.

Last but not least: Myra. Leave out her mental state, she's probably in the best shape out of all of us. Miraculously she has sustained no major injuries aside from some bruising on her neck and arms. In contrast to Miller though, the severity of our situation has somehow made her seem more… attractive? Yeah, I'd describe it that way. A fearful visage was common on her, but she somehow displayed a sort of womanly independence. Among other things, the mud stains on her skin and moist, sullied hair gave her a sort of jungle pinup look. But however attractive she seemed, I could find neither the time nor place to appreciate her properly. The present conditions made such luxuries lethal to not only me, but the rest of the group. As far as her physical state, she was still far from ideal, and mentally I have no idea. The worst part though, would be the constant feeling of fear and tension overshadowing all of us, debilitating our ability to even feel our bodies wanting to give in at every step. To put it frankly, we need to rest or it'll be our own doing that kills us long before the Covenant do. We walk for at least an hour before we stop at a small cave near the beach head.

"Alright… The sun's pretty much gone now. We can… we can rest here." I pant these words while I plant myself atop a small boulder, examining the decent sized cavern we decide to take shelter in. The structure itself is fairly large, at least several dozen feet deep and maybe ten or twenty feet tall. No stalagmites or stalactites are present, only boulders here and there. Victor came from somewhere off the beach dragging a large log with him, placing it at the mouth of the cave then taking a comfortable position on one of its ends. Miller went to the cave's end, curling up on the floor and hugging her arms with her back turned to all of us, her pistol and boots set off to her side. Myra took a seat across from me, taking her helmet off and allowing her moist, black hair to unravel onto her neck. Hands resting on her knees, she stares at the rocky ceiling. I hear the cock of a magnum and glance over at Victor, seeing that his pistol rests between his legs in his hands, his eyes scanning the area. To follow status quo, I decide to unstrap my own chest piece off and lay it off to my right, magnum atop it. Speaking of which, I need to check how much ammo I have left. Tapping around my pouches and pockets, I find only two magazines left, both fully loaded with eight rounds, but the magnum itself having only three in the mag and one in the chamber. After placing all those precious items on top of my chest piece, I walk over to Victor and take a seat next to him.

"We'll take watch for the first four hours, you ladies rest first," I shout behind me. Miller raises her left arm in response, Myra nodding her head when she looks at me. I return to Victor only to see him fervently staring out at the ocean water, the setting sun's bright glow vectoring down the middle. The stone set look capturing his face told me that words were not to be exchanged at this point in time, only silence. Silence to see. Silence for the dead. Silence for our own thoughts and emotions.

Which is what I need, if I'm going to be honest. Sure the entire walk up to this cave since the canyon has been quiet, but none of it was spent to reconcile my own mind. It was always on 'what to do next', 'we shouldn't go there' or 'fuck, we're going to die here'. Always on the Covenant. The God-damned Covenant. The last… twelve hours? Eighteen hours? Hell, I don't even know how long we've been running. But almost all of this time has been spent on the fucking Covenant. Peace of mind is a concept I don't even understand anymore because I don't even know if I'll know what that feels like again. I don't know if I'm going to make it. If _we_ are going to make it. How can we? We've barely got any feasible weapons. A sad excuse for a squad. All of us have never made frontline contact with the Covenant, two out of four of us have only officially been in real combat. Only one of us knows _anything_ about the monstrosities that are hunting us down and that person hasn't even fired their gun. I wouldn't even say that we stood a snowball's chance in Hell because even _this_ is insulting the snowball's ability. Victor may have been right, blowing our brains out might be the right thing to do. Our efforts may have been in vein since the beginning. Hitch's death, Daniels' sacrifice. All for nothing, because ONI sent us in blind. _ONI_. Those bastards… they probably knew. They always do. They do what they want, when they want, however they want and without any regard to the real consequences. Only their desired results. Ha. And what amazing results they'll be receiving. But who am I to judge? They never got their hands dirty. They only gave the orders.

No, they've never seen or spilt blood, they only gave the say so to allow it to happen. They were the Gods and ONI Black Ops were their hands. We cleaned up what they deemed dirty, and for what? The war started and the Insurrection gave in. They had no reason to send us after them, after the people we hunted. Whatever resistance we met was akin to a gang of thugs. The people we "fought", the people we killed, they were like insects. Squashed, stepped on and killed by weapons and munitions beyond their realm of defense. And the worst part? Sure, I was resistant to it. Hated it even. But by the fourth or fifth operation I let myself go, I started to enjoy it. It became part of another days work. Our operations were no-holds-barred, all targets in the vicinity were prone to execution. Those words exactly. Given to us in briefing. And we let ourselves kill everyone. No remorse. No regret. No mercy. Only one target after another. I did that dirty work for them and this is how they repay me. But shit, I was only another name on the roster once I got reassigned to the UNSC. Another expendable tool for another branch of the military to fight some God-damned boogey man that the people I fight for have never met. And now I'm running scared from that very enemy. Ironically enough, I'm running to them as well. This is probably what I get as compensation for my crimes. Spent so long killing people that could barely fight back. And now? Now the tables have completely turned. Sure, I had a squad. _Had_. But we weren't even mildly equipped to deal with the shit storm that wiped us out.

Maybe this is just a sign from God. A sign that all my fuckups and sins just might have a chance to be forgiven if I pull through with this un-Godly feat. But then again, I don't even believe in God. I believe in what's in front of me and what's true. And as far as I can tell, I'm going to die because of this mission. Or better yet, suicide-mission. That's what this is, anyway. Success. Failure. It will end the same. Chances are my name won't even be mentioned once word gets out that the Covenant are on Reach. I'll be just another number on the casualty count. Not even my squad mates say my name. Only Corporal. It's always been Corporal. Corporal this. Corporal that. Corporal, get on my six. Corporal, cover me. Corporal. Corporal. Corporal.

"Corporal. Hey, Corporal, snap the fuck out of it _puto_." I shake myself, leaving my entranced train of thought. It's completely dark around us.

"Wha… What? What happened?" I pull a time-piece out of my pocket and check. It's 21:17.

"Some watch you did. You've been staring at the sand for the last four hours. What's going through your head?" He looks at me with a stale and exhausted face, what little moon light there is emphasizing the bags under his eyes. He looks like a corpse that woke from the grave.

"Ha… Yeah. I uhh… I don't know. Got a lot going through my mind." I look back and see both Miller and Myra in there same spots, somehow sound asleep.

"We all do. There's no doubt about it…" He sighs.

"About that… How are you holding up Vic? You haven't exactly… said anything. Aside from back there." He rests his pistol on his lap, then begins to massage his hands, alternating between each hand repeatedly.

"I… What's there to say? I'm, as much as I hate to say it, fucking scared. I don't want to do this anymore than you do… I've always had this pent up rage against the Covenant but-"

"Now that the real deal is in front of you, you don't know how to respond," He looks at me slowly and nods his head in confirmation, "I understand. If only a little."

"It's not just that. It's… every time I see them, they're grotesque faces. Every time I hear their growls and screeches. I see and hear my sister. I never saw her go, but I can imagine it." He stands up and kicks the sand in frustration, his speech tight and strained from his activity. I'd forgotten about his history with the Covenant. Arcadia, his home planet, destroyed by a Covenant onslaught. She was likely killed on first contact with the Covenant since the fighting was fierce on the surface, especially at Pirth. The glassing didn't come until 2549, where the planet was finally condemned from any restoration efforts. Either way, Victor despised the outcomes the Covenant caused. But this is the way of war. Cruel and indiscriminant. Both sides, no matter what, feel its effects during and after. From what I have read in the mission reports, the Covenant are the most destructive during their combative campaign. Any contact with them usually leads to utter destruction, to the point of no reclamation. With them, they finish their business and get on with it to complete their objectives. But with humans it's different.

See, the hatred that festers within Victor, it's strong, sure. But I would bet against him if it were to come to human victims of war. Insurrection and civilian alike, the casualties, realities and costs of war are, in my humble opinion, much worse for humans. For humans we are never done and never satisfied. Occupation, exploitation and exportation; three tenets of war time commerce. Before, during and after an attack humans will do and use what they can to continue their operations whether it be to gain an economic or tactical advantage. Because even though we are faced with a crisis in front of us, the trail behind us is wrought with poverty, death and calamity. Always thinking ahead, always trying to account for everything even though it is very well impossible. That is human nature, to be afraid. But even worse, is what the people don't know. The three tenets previously mentioned, those are underlined by even more diabolical movements. Political power plays and Black Ops, a twisted means to an ends. Strategic waves made to ensure minimal fallout in the future by making the present situation much worse. Killing and corruption has always been evident with UEG, UNSC and ONI but not on the frontlines. Amongst the people we try to protect.

Which makes me think. Who is worse? We always look towards the Covenant whenever chaos strikes. But I can't even believe that anymore. Not after working with ONI. Times like these, sometimes it's a choice between lesser evils.

"I know Vic, I know. We've got the shitty end of the stick."

"No, we don't even have a stick. It's the pointy end of a fucking sword and those _fuckers_ are the ones holding the hilt," He finally falls onto the ground and lays himself down, staring into the sky, "See. Not even the stars are with us. The Covenant scared them away." I look up to see that dark clouds have formed overhead, the moon now completely hidden from sight, its light creating a bright spot among the gray blanket above us. It was almost as if it's the soul of the sky.

"Alright. No more pointless bullshit. We need to get some rest." I help Victor up from his resting position, having him follow me into the cave. After waking up Miller and Myra, Victor and I take positions on the floor and close our eyes.

* * *

It was dark and cold in Tribute's industrial sectors that night, the sounds of distant hums from machines that murmured their noises into the air, a sound so commonplace it had become nothing to the citizens. From a bird's eye view, lights could be seen dotting the urban and geometric landscape. Rectangular and pentagonal living complexes occurred repeatedly around the gargantuan factories whose smoke stacks and overly defensive walls towered over all else except the buildings they belonged to. Abnormalities among the repetitive surface designs were giant holes, maybe one-hundred meters in diameter, several hundred meters deep. The measurements did not matter though, only their purpose to hold the tons and tons of waste the human colonists had to bestow upon it. These areas, too, provided droning noises of large beeping trucks and shouts from workers whom took the late night shift. Another exception to these designs were the large commercial centers scattered among the living sites, long hall-like buildings that acted as both malls and houses of sin, areas of indulgence that could sate ones desires as long as they had the means to pay the price, money or no. These places were filled with human noise as well even so late at night. This was the sound of Tribute. Interrupted by the zooming jet noise of a Pelican, 2000 meters overhead.

The Pelican was black in color with yellow cautionary decals striving down diagonally on each side, standard issue military police design. It blended in the night sky, its booster jets being the only sign of its presence. Several scratches blemishing the finish of the vehicle signified what years of service it had. The nose of the pelican was coupled with a search-light and .50 Cal Riot-Class Cannon, locked and loaded for its purpose. The interior of the vehicle was akin to its exterior, the rear bay being dimly lit, with only two yellow lights shone along the center of the metal ceiling. The lights revealed two large stacks of silver military hard cases strapped down to the metal floor, each one lying in the epicenters of the lights. Affixed to the cases were parachutes as well. The words **CAUTION** were embedded onto the tops of the cases, giving hint of its contents to passing spectators. Along each side of the Pelican walls were apparatuses that barely passed for seating, twelve in total evenly divided, the cushions worn and torn from several years of use. Five men resided in the bay, two sitting on the east side, two on the west and one standing at the closed door that led to the Pelican cock-pit. Each man was clothed in black urban-style camo pants and accompanying long sleeve jacket, ballistic armor sitting atop them at the head, shoulders, chest, knees and shins, all pieces black or gray as well. They were armed with silenced SMGs and Magnums, specially designed and manufactured with carbon-fiber; lite class editions of their frontline counterparts. These tools were designed to be for quick and dirty use. The helmets themselves were of the EVA and EOD deviations, visor pieces colored silver and accessory like comm-pieces or VISR attachments colored white. Among all this equipment, no emblem was represented on any of them. As far as anyone could tell, these men had no employer, no military division to report to, and no authority to command them. They were blank. The soldier at the door, one could assume him to be the leader, walks over to the hard case closest to him and places his hand atop it, tapping it loudly to catch the attention of the other soldiers. He looks at his watch for a few seconds then returns to attending the men.

"2544, October 6th. Time is 2200. Insertion will be at 2210, double check your jump jets and be ready to drop. This is our third op, we all know the drill. Any questions?" They all looked at him without movement or response, "Good." After announcing this loudly over the hum of the engines, he returns to the door and begins checking his own equipment. The others followed his example, shuffling in their seats and pulling out their weapons and packs, the only exception being the one sitting farthest on the west side seats. The fellow soldier sitting closest to him turns to him as he checks his gear.

"Hey, kid. You need to do an equipment check. Casualties don't need to be made on the way down." The one addressed as 'Kid' uncrossed his arms and leans forward to rest on his knees. He makes a deep sigh.

"I… I already did a status check. Five times already. It's fine, trust me." He adjusted his helmet.

"It's your head, not mine…" The other one replied. After a few passing moments, the Kid finally turns his way to the other soldier, anxious to speak.

"Listen… what's in the cases?" When the soldier finishes up his final adjustments he sets his equipment to the side.

"Explosives. Rocket Launchers, DL-22 Plastics and Frag Grenades. And extra weapons and munitions for us. Small enough arsenal to take at least three of the factories sitting below us out of commission." His voice was one of professional report, no humor or change in tone. Blunt and straight to the point. The Kid's voice shook minimally with every word spoken.

"What? Explosives? I thought we were doing a sweep. We… We don't need something that overkill do we? It's not even an entire complex."

"We don't know that. The higher ups, ahem, don't want to take any chances. We're taking out the entire site to ensure no stragglers are left to escape. It's better this way, no risk."

"What the fuck? Do you even know what you're saying? There could be _kids_ in there. No risk for us, but for _them_ it is quite clear." The soldier laughed at the kid.

"You don't get it, do you? Down there, no one is innocent. The only ones who are dying tonight, are the bad guys. For us, good guys don't die."

"And who told you that all of them were bad?"

"The orders I was given and the money I was payed. No questions asked." The Kid shook his head in disapproval.

"How can we be okay with this..?"

"We were placed in this section because we are both expendable and reliable. When we do our jobs, our employers can move in, cleanup and establish the wonderful so called peace that everyone wants. Civilians win. _They_ win. We get paid, so we win too. It's an all win scenario."

"Is that all you care about? Money?"

"Of course not. But right now, it's beyond both of our pay grades to ask questions, let alone care. We have a job to do, and we are going to do it. People are going to die, with or without your approval. Got a problem?" The Kid tightened his grip on his right knee and hugged his stomach, nauseated at his present situation. He stared at the metal cases that sat in the lime light, like monuments to the sins they were going to commit. He froze, sitting there, contemplating the decision he was about to make. Two other times he had already permitted himself to slaughter those deemed executable to his authoritarian leaders. Two times he had allowed himself to lose his humanity. Two times he had forgotten the value of any life, good or bad. He releases a deep breath and looks up at the soldier.

"No sir."


	9. Chapter 10

Hey guys, quick little Author's note for you. I just wanted to thank any and all readers that have made it up to this point. It's been lengthy, I know, but I'm pouring all I can into this story and I'm glad that anyone here has taken the time to even read my works! I appreciate the attention more than you can imagine! I'll be honest, it's been a little rough writing these stories. Trying to come up with the right details, images, tones and moods. And even after weeks, I **still** won't be satisfied with it! But, alas, I trudge forward. Again, thank you for your support.

I don't want to pry, but any and all feedback is appreciated. The bad, the good and the ugly is what I want from you, and a good story is what you guys want from me! You don't have to, but any form of feedback is loved. Thanks again!

\- Your Author, **TheFreak1407**

* * *

I wake up in the middle of my sleep, my body forcing itself to rise in spite of the cold, hard and rough floor. I can't help but shiver in place. Aside from the rigid aching in my entire body, the burning sensation that engulfed my muscles and joints has now been overtly replaced by a piercing chill and stiffness, almost like experiencing real time post-mortem. I reach into my pocket and check the time-piece: 01:03, still way early morning. It's been four hours though, so I should… no. I can spare a few more minutes, I think. Much of my rest has been spent tossing and turning rather than actually letting my body recuperate. Too much thinking, too much stress. They always said in training that a "fox-hole is meant to let your body rest, not _you_ ". For the most part this is true, but in my situation I believe neither occurred. Of course, part of this thought process is my own selfishness. As much as I care for Myra and Miller, I need to put myself first in the field of combat. If I can't first guarantee my own safety, then I can't guarantee that of others. Yeah. That's how it works. If anyone actually believed that bullshit. My main motivation is not wanting to move. I guess altruism just isn't in my nature… of course, that isn't to say I'm devoid of emotion. Quite far from it if I were to be honest. How could I be a soldier without even a little bit of empathy. Any functional human being, service or not, requires a little bit of emotion. That's what makes us human. Unlike those Covenant bastards. Those unfeeling, relentless and malicious _bastards_. "No mercy, no survivors, no humans" is what I imagine they chant in their heads every time they kill a person- hell every time they glass an entire planet. I have no doubt that's how they feel. Elites, I think that's what Miller called them, I doubt they have any feeling. Just monsters is what they are, killing machines bred for nothing but war. I bet they ravaged their own planet for the sake of death and dominance. They… by the looks of this war, there will be no peace. Not until one side is completely and utterly destroyed. The simple idea of them coexisting with humans is impossible. Unimaginable. Those monstrosities probably don't even know what empathy is. They kill and move on. No real agenda except what their masters have in mind for them… Fuck. What am I doing? I should be resting now. I'm wasting their own and my time… But then again, why haven't they changed shifts with us yet? They could've woken us at any time… _**chk-chk**_.

"Alright mate, nice and easy. Sit up and no sudden movements or your fuckin' brains hit the walls." A rough, sandpaper-like voice grated against my eardrums. The cold metal of his pistol pressing against the back of my head contrasted with the heat of his breath on my ear. In response, I lift my body up slowly and position myself into a sitting position and then raise my hands into the air with cautiously slow speed. Funnily enough, I do not feel terrified. Scared, sure. But this feeling I have, it's almost close to relief. Other humans, for the first time in forever we have met other humans. With guns. Not just… the Covenant.

"Wait, listen to me, we're not your-," a sharp pain whips the back of my skull, sending me to the floor with my hands cupping my head.

"I didn't say talk, asshole. Get up, hands on your head and walk out of the cave." I comply with loathing reverence, walking out the cave with his pistol shepherding me from behind. As I exit the cave I see it is surrounded by at least a dozen men, each one dressed in long sleeve camo shirts and pants. Their gear, however, is varied between them, their roles not defined among their "squadron". Some wear bandoliers, waist packs, knee pads and make shift gas masks; others wear ballistic armor, back packs and high end NVG's. As for weaponry, I see that at least two of them are armed with a shotgun, four a DMR, one a sniper and the rest of them assault rifles. The single exception though was the one behind me who kicks me to the ground with the rest of my comrades, kneeling on the floor. I land next to Victor and spin around in the sand, left foot landing off to the side while my right leg kneels on the floor. I now take a good look at the man who put me at gun-point. His position as leader of this group was evident; he wears camo clothes like the rest of them but his shirt was short sleeved. Atop his head is a black beret that covers his obviously bald head. This man was of no average size though, at least a foot shorter than the Elites we fought and muscles to boot filling his clothes. There was no way we could resist any of them, let alone him, without severe consequences. This is the first time I've ever been caught by Insurrectionists with my pants down. Fate is fucking hilarious. I hear four rifles cock simultaneously with a slight brush of wind behind my head. Without looking, I can already tell that a barrel is pointed at me. The leader holsters his weapon.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk… My, my, you four are out of your territory. And I mean, _way_ out of your territory." His voice maintains a deadly seriousness, not even a hint of humor or leniency. His men were slaves and his voice was definitely the whip. He walks over to Miller, who is kneeling down on one knee and staring down at the floor, and leans in on her. She is shaking.

"Now tell me. What's ONI doing all the way out here," with surprise, Miller jerks her head up and looks at him with honest surprise, "that's right girl. I know a soldier when I see one. You are definitely not one of them." She remains silent. He continues to examine her with his cold-steel eyes until he retreats with his back turned to us, arms crossed behind him. He paces back and forth in front of us slowly. Minutes pass before he says anything.

"UNSC forces haven't spanned out here in months, why start now? These lands are redundant to you people. I suggest that one of you starts talking or else," he faces us and imitates popping one of our heads off with a hand-shaped pistol, "your service will be terminated immediately." All four of us look at each other, exchanging looks of desperation and confirmation, using our faces to communicate who should do the talking. After several seconds of silent speaking, I decide to clear my throat and begin to talk. I attempt to stand up, but a hand grabs my left shoulder and shoves me back down into position. I grunt in rebellion and look back at the leader. He raises his right hand and nods at the man behind me. I stand up and look the golem like man in the eyes, a serious but scared look on my face.

"Listen. Sir. Soldier. I don't know what the fuck to call you-,"

"Carver. Captain Carver. Remember it we-,"

"Yeah, okay. Carver. Listen. Look at us. Take a _good_ look at us. Do we look like a threat to you?" I give him a stern look in the eyes. He proceeds to examine each of us further, no change in his visage, only the same hard face. He turns his head toward the moon, the definition of his rectangular jawline becoming more-clear now.

"You look like UNSC. That alone poses a major problem." He shakes his head as he speaks. The slightest facet of doubt in his sandpaper voice.

"No- you don't understand. _Look_ at us. Have you heard any reports from your units about UNSC engagement? Anything at all?" He continues to look at the moon.

"Negative." He replies with reluctance.

"So think about it. What the _fuck_ could have caused us to be in such a fucked up state. If it wasn't you guys…" A glimmer of hope for mutual understanding. I had to reason with these guys, find middle ground. I know for a fact that throwing in the Covenant would seem like a desperate attempt for survival. As far as anyone on this planet was concerned, Reach was still far off the grid from combative contact. So in terms of conflict, these guys and the UNSC still believe it's a two way fight. The third party has yet to show its hand.

"What in the hell are you implying…" He brings his gaze down to me.

"Cap, Vance's squadron lost contact with us on the 18th. These could be survivors from the engagement. From their last known position, it would be about a day's walk to get here." One of the men chimed in before I could even open my mouth. Apparently, this would be enough to convince Carver of our guilt because his jawline clenched. And when I say that, I mean veins showed up on his face where veins weren't meant to be. I was hoping that he would be bright enough to get what I was trying to say but just like every other Insurrectionist… this bastard was as dumb as bricks. Plan B, fight back. Chances of survival are quite low, but at this point doing nothing guaranteed our deaths. I look at Victor and flash my eyes in Carvers direction. As far as I can tell he understands my meaning. Disarm, subdue and capture the leader. Hold him hostage and tell the rest of them to drop their weapons. It's one hell of a bad plan, but it's the only one I got going. I'll signal him on three…

"It's the Covenant you fucking idiots!" Myra shouts out loud in a shrill but commanding voice. She was breathing out loud emitting large and burdened breaths, obviously frightened by both the men surrounding her and her potential stupidity. All eyes fell upon her, some men taking off their masks or NVG's to get a better sight on her, as if fixing their view would allow them to process what they heard better. Carver walks over to her and picks her up by the collar, lifting her up and bringing her face to his own in one fluid motion. She takes in a quick gasp of air, shaking in place and skin going pale. Her eyes have widened now, pure fear taking over. What she sees is no longer Captain Carver. The situation in front of me is vastly familiar. The way she was lifted off the floor so easily, the Captain's own ability to easily snap her in two. It was no different from how the Elites treated us. She began to wail loudly like a banshee.

"AHHHH! LET ME GO! GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME!" She cries, tears starting to flow.

"You mother fu-," Victor began to get up in a tackling motion but one of the men immediately butts him in the head with their rifle and pins him onto the floor. Before I can make a motion everyone's weapons raised in our directions, preventing any further movements. Their intentions were clear and we could do nothing about it. Sweat flows down the side of my head as I see Myra continually struggling in Carver's arms, scratching at his hands to no avail. Images of the Elite flow into my head, the malicious intent that we had encountered only a day or two ago was now present right here in front of me. The only difference being, the main and dominant difference, that a human was the one committing the act. It makes me want to vomit, cry and scream. For a while now I believed that we were different from those monsters. That they were nothing but killers and demons. But how can I say that when evidence is right in front of me. Not just Carver. But myself. The amount of mercy Carver is showing to Myra is the same as what the Elites showed to us. What I showed to the civilians on Tribute.

"Let her go you God-damned bastard!" I inch forward but everyone nudges their rifles in my direction as I do. _Fucking shit_. I can't do anything. This is exactly like last time. God damn it. What do I do? _What?_ Nothing. I can't do anything. This might just kill her this time. We don't have Daniels' help this time. We're fucked. I don't even care that Reach is going to fall because of this. _We_ are going to die because of this. Damn it. Damn it.

"Listen lady. It's one thing to kill my men. But to not own up to it and spout bullshit is another." Just like everything else he did, in one fluid motion, he brought her down onto the floor and pinned her down with his left forearm on her throat. Myra's wailing and whining is muffled now, her lack of air preventing any further noises from her mouth. With one clean swipe, he punches her and knocks her out. Silence.

"You fucker!" I start for him with fists clenched but to no avail. Before I could even touch Carver, a blunt force hits the side of my head and sends me to the floor. As I hit the ground, I see Victor also struggling to get up and fight, throwing the man on his back off to the side. But just like me, before he could get close, two men pull him back by the arms, subduing his efforts to move. The man he threw off picks himself up and moves to Victor's front, butting him with his assault rifle and sending him to sleep. The last thing I see is Miller sitting still in the middle of the crowd, no motion. No resistance. Not even an emotion on her face. Nothing registered. Then blank.

* * *

When I open my eyes redness skirts the edges of my vision, furthering the obscurity of my already blurry sight. The first few seconds of gathering my bearings reveal that we have been brought back into the forest. Where to, I do not know, only that I have been placed against a large granite boulder. Looking around I can see that Victor sits to my right, both hands tied behind his back. I move my own wrists around to find out that I, too, am tied up. Both Myra and Miller sit opposite of us, backs against a mossy tree, the blue morning light shining on their faces. Further off to the right, most likely behind the rock, I can hear the crackle of a fire and scramble of several voices. Among the sounds of chirps and tweets of birds and insects is a component that was missing: the ocean. No brush of the waves or sound of a rough wind, only the forest. I couldn't even smell or taste the salt anymore. Wherever we are, we've been dragged far from where we were knocked out. I don't know why, but Carver decided to take us in as POWs. This thought is both relieving and disheartening since we could be quite a distance away from our intended destination. _**–crack**_

I jerk my head to the right and discover that it had not just been us sitting out here, but two of Carver's own men. One of them sat atop a rock carving away at a piece of wood with his knife. The other is standing up leaning on a tree with his DMR cradled in his arms and eyes scanning all of us prisoners closely. It seems as though we've been here a while since many of his combat articles have been removed; his backpack, bandolier, chest piece and NVG's are all found on the dirt not too far from his feet. All that's left is a bearded man with frizzled brown hair, a worn shirt, pants, boots and a crazed look on his face. Matter of fact, I would probably describe his expression as deadly lustful. The way he changes his features when his eyes fall upon Miller and Myra discomforts and disgusts me. His intentions obviously fell far from just guard duty. I turn my gaze over to the women as if to protect them from him, but it was about as effective as telling him to stop his degrading looks. Both Miller and Myra are oblivious to him, silently staring at the floor in what looks like hopeless despair. I can't say I blame them though, this situation is pretty fucked. But despite all this I feel more comfort in the hands of this enemy rather than the other. That's how I feel for now, at least.

"What're we going to do..?" The quiet but hoarse voice startles me and disrupts my train of thought. It takes me a few seconds to realize that it was Victor who spoke. Looking at him, I am distraught by his appearance. It couldn't have been more than three or four days now but it looks as if we've been at this for a month. His face is skeletal, a probable result of lack of actual nutrition and stress thereof. Dark bags hugged the bottom of his eye lids, giving the impression that he hasn't been asleep in a disastrous amount of time. His time in the cave must've been worse than my own.

"I… I don't know. Things aren't looking up for us Vic." I didn't even bother trying to sugar coat things. We're up shit creek, and there's no room for denial. The best situation I can make of this would have to be our executions, which for obvious reasons is not a good thing. Sit and wait is all we can do. It's all I can think of to do.

"If the situation were turned around I'd have killed these _putos_ no question." As he says these words he shoots a deadly glare at the two men guarding us.

"Which is why we're lucky… It doesn't make sense to me as to why we're alive. We hold no value. We're just baggage." From what I can deduce, there's no reason for us to be alive. If anything, POWs would draw lethal attention to them under normal circumstances, but this is far from normal. Why is Carver holding us here? Does he know something? Yeah, maybe he does. There's no way he can feign ignorance about something like this so easily, not over the Covenant. It's too foolhardy for a man like him. But what do I know? I'm just a prisoner. _**–crack**_

The sound was louder this time, demanding a more cautious response. As I turn my head I see that the man who was carving was still sitting down, but the one who had the rifle was now approaching us. As he gets closer, he places the DMR on a rock to my left, pulling out his knife from some sheathe mounted on his back side. I feel and hear Victor shuffle in place, a fit of frustration for not being able to properly retaliate. Looking at the approaching perpetrator, I can see that the look in his eyes was definitely of a malicious nature. He looks at me, then glances at Myra and finally returns to me with a twisted smile. Reaching me, he kneels down on one knee and places the tip of his blade to my throat, twisting it in place.

"Say, jarhead, what're you guys doing out here so far away from home?" His voice was rough, like Carvers, but with an accent. A more crude and mangled version of Miller's own. Glancing over at Miller to see that she has lifted her head towards us, I return and glare at him with my lips tightened. My response is met with a push of the blade. I could feel him draw a bit of blood, a warm stream flowing down my neck. I maintain eye contact with the malevolent bastard.

"You know, my brother was there. Little bugger was part of the squad that you rascals decided to tear a new one," he places his head in the palm of his free hand and chuckles maniacally, his knife still at my throat, "he uhhh… Last thing I heard on his comm was a simple little scream. A scream and then nothin'. Static." He goes silent after finishing his last statement, lifting his head to look me in the eyes with an uncomfortably still face and twisted smile. Without warning, he immediately pins me into the stone wall behind me and places the long edge of his blade against my neck, his left hand grabbing the back of my head, guiding it backwards and exposing my jugular. Victor attempts to get up to help me but the man visibly presses the blade against my skin, forcing Victor into a retreat.

"Ah, ah, don't you fucking move. Do it and I'll finish'em right now, ya hear?" In an uncanny motion, he tilts his head in my direction and looks down at my neck.

"Maybe… maybe your brother shouldn't have been fighting on the wrong side." That was stupid of me.

"You fucking prick." Almost milliseconds after my statement, my vision goes white and face panged with an unreal numbness. After gathering myself and letting my vision refocus, I find myself looking up at the man this time, his blade pointed at me. My jaw tightens at the sight, a sense of dread towards the coming moments. Regardless of this huge misunderstanding, this guy is angry, and rightly so. The problem here is that his anger is aimed at the wrong person. The wrong species. But there was no point in trying to persuade them, the Covenant being here was hard to believe in the first place. I mean, look at my squad, we were a fully equipped UNSC group and we couldn't even remotely contain our situation. Then the Insurrectionists followed not too long after, and I'm betting they were just as well equipped as their dangerous brethren right here. Everyone here has experienced some sort of misfortune because of the Covenant and he wants to take it out on _me_. I close my eyes, ready to take in his steel.

"Heh… you know, after being out here for so long, you kinda forget." He turns away from me and starts walking toward Myra.

"What the hell does that mean?" Victor grunts.

"What the feel of a woman is like. I've just been surrounded by cocks and dirt for months now and uhh, your friend looks tasty." He grabs Myra by her neck and shoulder, forcing a squeal out of her. The trauma just doesn't stop for that poor girl. She's been strong for this long, but I can tell she's about to break. She looks up at him with both fear and surrender, knowing her resistance would be nothing but futile. Anger surges through my body, heat blanketing over my face. My hands want to choke him to death but only struggle in their restraints. Both Victor and I start to move for him but hear the cock of a rifle to our left. We turn our gazes to the sound to find that the wood worker has his assault rifle aimed in our direction. We hold our position but make no effort to advance for fear of becoming one with the Lord.

"Don't you make a fucking move. Oi' make it quick. I want a go." His voice was akin to the one across from us, only deeper.

"Ha. Yeah, sure. But don't expect me to be clean. Now come here you bitch." Without any sense of letting up, he begins to grope Myra, hands tearing her armor off and defiling her breasts. His hands were vigorous in their assault, feeling up every inch of her body from the inner portions of her thighs to the nape of her neck, followed by a disgusting flurry of his own tongue. Every attempt she made to struggle only turned into either a moan of forced pleasure, pain or frustration. Several times she tried to shake him off, but this only made him laugh and force her back into his hands, like an amusing and twisted game of cat and mouse. This went on for a couple minutes until he was finally done exploring her body with his hands and made for her face.

It had never occurred to me before, but Myra is actually quite a beautiful young woman. Dismiss the mud and grime and you'll find that her figure is ideal for any man; she has a slim but well-toned body, her breasts a perfect proportion to her buttocks, a cute face no doubt. Eyes that can strike anyone as long as you were paying attention. A cute, snub-nose and small lips. Her black hair was nape length, the left side of her bangs being longer than the other, a wonder as to how she ever passed personnel inspections. This is my squad mate. My friend. And this fucking bastard is defiling her.

"You mother **fucker** , let her go now!" I shout with nothing but pure rage, glancing at the rifleman to my left. A destructive feeling wells up inside me, anger and helplessness swirled in both my chest and gut, nauseating me. My fists tighten and wriggle within their restraints, a futile attempt to free themselves. I can hear Victor breathing hot air through his nose, wielding an equal if not greater amount of fury.

In a response to us, the man holding Myra takes a position behind her and brings out his knife to her throat, holding her as a human shield. Myra's head is tilted away, her eyes alternating between us and the knife, a cry for help of which we cannot answer. Her lips quiver and purse into a dejected form, eyes beginning to well with tears until she begins to quietly sob in his arms. My chest tightens at the sight, teeth beginning to grind against each other to the point where I'm sure even Victor can hear it.

"Neither of you bastards move an inch, or we'll end up fucking a dead body." Myra twitches at the statement, closing her eyes tightly as if to imagine herself in a better place. She purses her lips inward, into her own mouth, breathing through her nose to calm herself down. The man brings his knife to the neck of her shirt and slowly begins to cut down the center line. Half way down, he tears away at the rest in a violent motion causing Myra to scream out in terror. With her shirt now torn open, it reveals her breasts, glistened with sweat. He brings her forward and out into the light, emphasizing her beauty and bringing his vile acts into the lime-light. Laughing and mumbling to himself, he grabs her chin and forces her face to his, jamming his tongue into her mouth and creating a flurry of disgusting sloppy noises. She bites down in defense but is immediately thrown down onto the floor.

"Ach! You dumb bitch… Oh, you're gonna pay for that one." He drops down on top of her and with more ferocity than before begins to grope at her breasts. His hands cup and abuse her body in such a despicable manner that no sense of justice could be used to punish him. Without hint of warning he shoves his left hand directly into Myra's pants and begins to take the assault into an entirely new stage. Myra's hands grasp his shoulders tightly but made no effort to resist. At some point, her arms fall off to the side, spread open and leaving herself vulnerable to more of his acts. He made no attempt to let up. Eventually, I am able to hear his belt unbuckle in a hurry, a clear sign of the next development of his actions. Every motion of his body against hers disgusted and wrought forth even more rage. I want to kill him. I want to take that God damned knife and jam it down his throat, cut his dick off while I'm at it. I'll make this bastard pay ten times over.

"Stop, damn it! Just STOP!" I cry out. He turns his head our direction, laughs, and then begins to slowly thrust. God damn it. Fuck. FUCK. This bastard. This piece of shit. Blood. I want his blood. Every being of myself has nothing but malice at this point. And he knows it, that motherfucker knows it. He also knows that I can't do anything. Gah!

"Oh man, that feels goo-" As if she came out of the shadows, Miller reveals herself in a screaming rage. Her voice held such shock value that I do nothing but watch a new series of events violently unfold. Kicking the side of his head and sending him several feet to the left, she grabs his knife with hands that have been miraculously been freed and begins to stab the living hell out of him. With every stab she grunts with rage, gushes of blood staining her uniform and face, a beautiful red paint that had never felt so liberating to see before. Miller glances at me with a wild look in her eye, signaling me to take care of the second perpetrator. I turn to him only to see that our luck has not struck out as amazing as I had hoped. As the rifleman begins to make a B-line for us, a large shimmer appears before him. Just like what I saw in the outpost, a fluid like pulse flows from two epicenters revealing two very large Elites in blue armor. In a quick lunge, the forward most Elite brings its foot up and down onto the back of the man, and pinning him onto the floor, twisting its leg and most definitely breaking his spine. A gnarly crack emanates from the body. The monster brings forth a handheld plasma blaster and plants two shots into the head. The rifle lands in front of Miller and the body she sits atop of. Tossing me the knife, she grabs the rifle and begins to lay down a shower of fire upon the Elites. Cowering into a retreat, they morph back into their cloaking devices, their shimmers disappearing into the trees.

As I cut myself and Victor free, I can hear the shouts of men beyond the boulder behind us accompanied by plasma and rifle fire. I take some time to scan our immediate surroundings and see nothing but trees, but better yet, no sign of any Covenant. They're probably ignoring us since we're less of a threat than the actual soldiers. After finishing my scan, I run over to Miller and check on Myra.

"How… how is she?" The visual alone is enough to tell me how things are. She is breathing, alive, but that's the only thing okay about her. She lies on her back, chest expose and arms to her side, bruises around her wrists and neck. Dried saliva stains her cheek while her own drips out of her tilted head and onto the floor. Her eyes tell me that she's been completely checked out of reality. She can walk, but only if she allows herself to. And frankly, that's not happening. God dammit. If only we could have acted earlier… if I wasn't being such a coward. All I could do was think. Hold a silent anger. Not like Miller… she actually _did_ something. Fuck. What the hell am I doing? This is a waste of time.

I close my eyes and take in a deep breath. Right now, I have no time to wallow in sorrow. Move. That's what we need to do. Anywhere but here. I heave Myra up onto my left shoulder and shift my body over to the rapist's mutilated body, taking the knife from his throat. With a bit of a balance struggle, I get myself up into a standing position and turn to Miller and Victor.

"I'll carry her. Victor, go through that pack and find a shirt then take his rifle. Miller, find some ammo for that rifle and take our six. We're getting the fuck out of here." I lift Myra up onto my left shoulder and wait for Victor and Miller. During the few seconds of shuffling, Victor finds a shirt and a couple DMR magazines, shoving them into his pockets causing them to bulge. During this time Miller had already scrounged up some ammo and is already engaging with whoever the fuck lies beyond the rock. Several times she takes cover hugging the rock then steps out with the assault rifle to her hip, unloading on God knows what. We regroup ourselves and make for the trees, sprinting as hard and as fast as we can. It felt like the outpost all over again, running for our lives and barely scraping by. This time, however, I doubt we'll draw lucky again, not since Daniels is gone.

At least a minute of sprinting occurs before we see a familiar sight: water. A river to be exact, likely to be a derivative from the very stream we'd been following. Since it's early morning and the sun is to our backs and the river is traveling left and right relative to us, going left would lead us southward. This should suffice as a general plan of direction since the south is where the supply post is. Once we get there we can finish this God forsaken "mission". No radio contact at all, how do I even know if what we're doing is worth shit? I don't. I'm running – sprinting – on pure UNSC faith which, in all honesty, isn't worth a damn right now. It would be fucking hilarious if they don't believe us when we establish contact with them.

"Shit, get down!" _**– BAM –**_ A DMR round whizzes right into and out of Victor's shoulder before any of us could successfully drop into cover. Lucky for us the river bed contains mostly large rocks, many crevices for us to hide in. Unfortunately Victor has taken a shot. From who? I intend to find out.

"You bastards! Ha! You weren't lying when you said it was the Covenant!" The voice was loud, but very rough. It was Carver. I lower Myra in a sitting position at my feet then pop my head over the rock. Almost an instant after getting a sight on the environment, I am greeted with a flurry of sparks from a gunshot.

"Well shit, that was a miss!" He laughs obnoxiously, the sound of him reloading faintly amidst his noise.

"Why are you doing this Carver!? Just let us go!" I scream.

"Get back here you fools! Help us kill them, the more the merrier!" His voice almost breaks for a second. Remorse and sorrow was laden in it.

"There's no point Carver," I sigh to myself then continue, "They're already dead. All of them. Come with us! We can survive this!" I lift my head to peek over once more, and again, I am greeted with a gunshot. This time I am able to spot his position, at least forty feet away atop a granite ledge, a part of a larger boulder. His back is resting on it and, from what I could see, his leg was bleeding too. He wasn't going anywhere.

"And then what? Get pardoned? You might not know me, but your higher ups definitely do! And besides," a small silence follows before he finishes, "I'm dead either way. Now get the fuck back here and _fight_ you cowards!" He shouts with ferocity this time, real anger emanating from his voice. I raise my hands into the air to signal peace and then slowly raise myself above cover. Miller grabs me before my head reaches the top.

"What are you doing? Are you crazy!?" She whispers to me.

"Like when you killed that fucker back there?" She gives me a quizzical look, then let's me go. I perch my head over the top and find Carver aiming his rifle directly at me. His condition was much worse than I had seen. The blood on his leg did not come from his leg but from his abdomen, and there was a lot of it.

"Listen, don't do this. We… we need to get out of here. This isn't just for us, but the entire planet. Please. Come with us. It doesn't have to be this way." He ponders the thought for a few seconds. After lifting his head from the scope, he lowers his rifle and draws breath. I sigh a bit of relief.

"You're… you're a soldier. You don't run from a fight. Not like my boys. You die now." Shit.

As he raises his rifle to shoot, a large four fingered and clawed hand pieced with orange armor reveals itself from atop the boulder, a blue pulse disengaging a cloaking device. The hand grabs Carver by the face and lifts him into the air, forcing a couple DMR rounds in random directions. The Elite holds him in the air for a couple seconds like a trophy before summoning its sword and impaling Carver by the gut.

"Acch! You… fuckers…" He gargles blood before finally going limp. The beast throws his body into the rocks with its blade before turning our direction, raising a demonic finger in our direction.

" _Riok wruq!_ " It shouts in a deep, reverberant and intimidating voice. In only a few moments several Jackals appear from the boulders with plasma pistols raised in our direction, a barrage of green bolts following seconds after. At least two Jackals have made considerable leeway on our position as this happens. Immediately, I drop down and search for Victor's DMR, raising it up and taking two of the Jackals down with sloppy accuracy. It didn't kill them, but it put them out for now.

"Shit, Miller, take Myra. Victor, all three of you get to the river!" I shout at them while blasting a couple rounds down range, stalling the approaching enemy.

"And do what!? Leave you here?" Victor grunts in pain as he lifts himself up.

"Fucking move damn it!" Miller lifts Myra onto her shoulder and they begin there stumble across whatever rocks remain between them and the river. As they move, Miller occasionally turns to her right and hip fires her rifle to help with the cover fire. I do the same, reserving what little ammo is left in the rifle. Of the twelve shots I have fired, at least six have hit their mark. Standard magazine count means that I have six rounds remaining. I turn to see where my group has gotten. They are at least ten feet from the water. I raise myself from the cover and release the remaining ammo, killing at least one Jackal before throwing the strap on and tossing the rifle over my shoulder. Sweat is stinging my eyes now, and the extreme thumping of my heart has caused both my adrenaline and anxiety to kick in. Every step and leap I make across the rocks induces a rattling of my vision, causing a sort of light headedness. Every green bolt that passes me makes my body tense up with fear. It's been a while since I've experienced this and I have not gotten used to it at all. I turn my head and see that the Elite is still standing overhead, eight Jackals now advancing on us. When I bring myself forward again I find that Miller and Victor have stopped at the bank of the water. This water is, in fact, moving _very_ fast. Miller turns to me with eyes widened.

"What do we do!?" She screams. I turn one more time to inspect the situation and see that it has gotten worse. Two Elites have entered the fray, plasma blasters raised and firing. I return to my group.

"Fucking jump!" I shout, tackling Miller and Myra into the water, Victor not that far behind. The vigorously cold water consumes our bodies as we hit the water, giving me a sense of both relief and terror. In a few moments we break the surface gasping for air, seeing that the Covenant are at the bank shooting rounds at us but failing to hit such fast targets. Relief becomes the most predominant emotion at this moment, but is immediately overtaken as we are swept under the water once again, to enter a free fall from a water fall.


	10. Chapter 11

**11**

Four men sat in a dark room, a transparent blue-tinted glass table sitting prominently at the center. It was ovular in design and supported by an intricate corkscrew type metal work at the center surrounding a central block. Small blue lights shone downwards on the undersides of the twists and turns of the supports revealing the men's black and leather business shoes, while a large white but dim light rest in the center atop the middle structure. A single downward facing cylindrical lamp hung from the center of the ceiling illuminating the room, but only enough to expose the suits of the men, but not their faces. Suit cases sat next to each of their cushioned, metal seats, large and prominent ONI emblems embedded onto the centers of each case. The seats themselves were nothing special, but the men who sat in them held a significant amount of power.

In front of each man was a portfolio that was thin in size and containing a small but crucial amount of information, save one that was thick with papers and files. The thin ones had, in big red ink, the word **CLASSIFIED** printed on the center of each portfolio, but the exception of the thick one having the word repeatedly stamped on it, some of the stamps faded. The man responsible for the large folder sat still and silent, a shining metal pin resting on his right breast. On it read **Admiral Timothy S. Cullock**. One of the men sitting farthest away from the Admiral clears his throat.

"Ahem, err… Admiral. You brought us here to discuss a certain matter." He shifts his tie left and right as he speaks then rests both hands on his lap. The Admiral continued to hold his silent posture after being addressed, not even moving his hands from the arm rests. All eyes fell upon him and continue to do so for another minute. The Admiral then lowered his right hand to the portfolio, opening it and placing a few pictures to the right of the folder itself. He crosses his legs and begins to speak.

"What you see in front of you here, gentlemen, are Reach's telemetric outer-zone frequency graphs. As you should know, the graphs represent any hiccup in slip-space activity within several hundred light years of the planet." The Admiral taps on the table to the left of his portfolio revealing an interactive interface on the glass surface. After several more taps, white, digital lines begin to form around the pictures until each individual picture is framed with white light. The large central light of the table begins to glow blue, along with the cylindrical lamp, revealing that they act as holographic mediums. A transparent cylindrical screen protrudes from the lamp itself, the base of it being at the table and rising as far as the top of the lamp itself. Images of the four pictures the Admiral presented shine onto the holographic screen and rotate in a circular motion to allow all men in the room to inspect the images. One of them gasp at the sight of one of the pictures.

"What the hell, are you certain this is real, Admiral?" The bewildered man, sitting to the Admiral's right turns his way, awaiting an answer. The Admiral waves his left hand over the table causing each individual picture to split up and duplicate itself into three sets of three. The images fly off in front of each man as to give them a better perspective of what they were looking at.

"The results are quite real, but what caused them, that is what our analysts are not sure of."

"When were the results received?" The one to the right asks. The Admiral pauses before answering, hands tapping his arm rests rhythmically in a moment of ponderous thought. He stops.

"Two weeks ago." The men began to murmur anxiously amongst themselves for a few seconds then return to the Admiral.

"And what… what does this have to do with us?" The man sitting left of the Admiral asked.

"We lost contact with one… no, two of our outer region supply posts on the Eastern seaboard of Reach's central continent. This was reported to us only two days ago."

"And the problem, Admiral? They're in obscure locations, communications is bound to malfunction some time."

"That is precisely why it is concerning to Forward Command. The obscurity of their position is what makes their ability to maintain communications vital. To cut off reports for three days makes it a peculiar case." The Admiral brings his hands together forming a pyramid, allowing his subordinates to contemplate the issue presented to them.

"Three? I thought you said it was reported two days ago."

"It was. Command gives them leeway of at least one day, a buffer to avoid unnecessary panic. It's been three since their last report, and Hayward said they're very consistent. _Very_." This statement made the other gentleman shuffle in their seats, discomfort obvious in their hands but seen nowhere else on their bodies. The one sitting farthest from the Admiral leans to the side and opens his suitcase, producing a water bottle to which he takes a drink from. From a simple observing view, this meeting seems simple and casual. But the air was thick with tension, each man becoming hot from discomfort.

"So then… send a team. Send Noble Team. They always get the job done."

"First of all, Holland would never give clearance. Not for a mission so poorly supported in purpose. No. And second of all, not even ONI wants to send out any Spartan III's. A high resource cost for a small operation such as this is overkill. I advise against it as well."

"Wha- but that's _our_ program. We should be able to send who we wa-"

"Your program, but not your soldiers. Weapon manufacturers are not responsible for the use of their products once it's been distributed. I understand your concern, but both UNSC and ONI do not want to waste high-grade resources on an operation like this." The Admiral taps on the table once again, this time forcing all images to retreat into the center of the table and deactivating the holographic computer. All lights return to a white tint.

"So then, Admiral, what are you proposing?" In response, the Admiral brings his right hand to the thick portfolio and produces a single piece of paper with a photo paper-clipped to the top left. He places the photo to the side and repeats the process that allowed the graphs to be displayed on the computer. The photo enlarges in the center of the room.

"Gentlemen if you'd please open the folders in front of you. Inside you will find a single person of interest of which we'd like to send in." The central image in front of all the men reveals a photo of a simple marine sitting among some cargo with two other men. His clothes, however, deviated from standard UNSC wear. His clothes were black.

"You will find some details that I think you will find intriguing. Selling points, you could say." The men began to scan the papers contained within their folders. One of them threw the paper down in an act of repulsion.

"My God, this man is a monster!"

"What do you mean?"

"He- what the hell do you people do!? He was part of the Tribute Massacres!"

"What _we_ do is no different from your Spartan program. Keep reading, there's more that you need to know." Reluctantly, all men resumed their inspections of the papers. After a couple minutes they lay down their documents and converse once again.

"Does… does Halsey know of this?" The Admiral leans forward and reveals a portion of his face, a smile to be specific.

"Of course not. She would never approve of our use of him if she did."

"There are no records of… _him_ having any siblings. These must be fabricated."

"Top brass like me have access to all kinds of information that any one of you couldn't even begin to dream of. Trust me when I say that this report is solid." All men but the Admiral stare down at the papers in front of them, weary at their contents. Finally, the one to Admiral's left raises his hand.

"Why do you want to send him in alone?" He asks.

"Not alone. He's already been reassigned to a platoon here on Reach, active two years ago. The marine division he is a part of will be assigned the mission. Force Recon."

"Then let me ask a better question," it is the man to the right this time, "Why do _you_ want to send him in?" His voice demanded an answer, but the Admiral withdrew in his seat.

"It's not me who wants to send him. Per se, I was persuaded."

"Then who?"  
"It was me, head Officers." A new voice enters the fray, only this time it is purely feminine and accented. She enters the light, revealing gray ONI garments.

"Gentlemen, I introduce Intelligence Officer and Chief Field Analyst, Captain Shauna Miller." She salutes to them and holds the posture.

"At ease Captain." She lowers her arm and proceeds to walk over to the Admiral's left side and begins to tap away on the table's interface. This brings up still images of several different scenes, some distraught with violence and some still shots of scenery. All of them contained images of the marine previously mentioned.

"It is his relation to _that_ Spartan that is cause for my recommendation. He has had exceedingly great amounts of success regarding all of his operations, some of which are not revealed in your folders, but all of which are bore desired results."

"But the reports show that he's usually, if not always, the only one to come back. He's a curse, not a soldier of fortune," the one across from them retorts.

"That is why. He is usually the only one. Tribute. New Mombasa. Alcion VI. Any of his operations within Epsilon Eridanus, he was successful. And now, hopefully to add to his record, Reach. And think of his tendencies as a bonus. This makes him extremely expendable, putting the operation under wraps." Miller spoke with a significant amount of praise and professionalism, both of which awkwardly mixed. After straightening herself up, she returns to the group to address them.

"Officers, it is not his skill or physique that makes him exemplary. If there's anything a soldier needs on an operation involving the unknown, like this one, it is a very special trait."

"And what is that, Captain?" She leans forward and places both hands on her table, the light shining on her face.

"A trait that Catherine Halsey's favorite Spartan II has. The reason my subject is not dead yet," she smiles, "Luck."

* * *

"Ach! ~cough~cough~" Water pours out of my mouth as I roll over, the left side of my face buried in the mud. My eyes open, everything hazy and bright, finding difficulty in making sense of what's in front of me. My legs are still in the terrifically cold water, the DMR barely strapped onto my ankle ready to be swept away by the stream. I lift myself up with what little strength I have left in my arms and crawl out of the water, planting my back onto some warm and moist grass. A warm breeze sweeps past me as I stare through the canopy above me, warming and cooling my body at the same time. Other than the rush of the waters near me, the only sounds that fill the air are the chirps of insects and small birds. The few streams of sunlight that break through the leaves pepper my body, slowly drying the spots they illuminate. After several minutes I can feel several bugs getting into my clothes and crawling through, but I don't care. Not at this moment at least. I'm aching, tired, frustrated and relieved all at the same time. From the Covenant to Insurrectionists and back to the Covenant once again. There is no such thing as a God damn break for us. Now that I think about it, why are they even chasing us? _Are_ they even chasing us? Honestly, do we even truly pose a threat to them? It's surprising enough that they haven't killed us yet. They're supposed to be more technologically advanced than us and they can't even kill four simple soldiers… heh. The thought itself is funny. But then again, they massacred the rest of us. So it's at least nine for two. What a terrible fucking score. It would make Victor laugh…

"Hey Victor… man we are so fucked…" I speak aloud. A minute passes and there is no reply. Hastily, I jerk myself up and scan my surroundings. How long have I been lying there? Shit. I can't find anyone, we got separated after falling into the water.

Within moments my eyes fall onto a mass covered in mud, a bald head glimmering among the murky camouflage. I force myself to crawl over to it and turn it over, revealing an extremely pale Victor, a giant red stain boldly presenting itself from his right shoulder, a red stream flowing into the river. I place my ear to his mouth and fortunately, or fuck it, unfortunately, find that he is still faintly breathing. It's a light and weak breath, almost baby like. But for a grown man, this is a major cause for concern. I lift him up by the arms and drag him over to a drier spot. After taking off his body armor and shirt, I wring the shirt out and place it in some sun to dry. Inspecting his wound, I see that it is still releasing some blood. Fuck. As if there was any blood left in his body. I run over to the river and remove my own shirt, washing it in the water for a bit then let it soak up. After a couple seconds I return to Victor and clean his wound as best as I can then go back to the river to rinse off the shirt. This time, upon my return, I place the shirt in his mouth and force him to drink from the makeshift sponge. Satisfied with his liquid intake, I check on his shirt to see how dry it has become. It's only been a few minutes so of course it isn't in a desirable state, but it's warm enough to act as a basic bandage. I return to Victor and tie the shirt across his chest, tightening it so the pressure remains on the wound itself. This draws out a wince from Victor, giving me a sigh of relief.

"Hey, hey, say something. Tell me you're alive." I tap his face with my fingers, his eyes twitching after each tap. Slow and weak, he brings his hand to my wrist and grabs it, his grip lighter than ever.

"Knock… that shit… off." He manages, voice the quietest it has ever been. He smiles, but still only barely noticeable. Thank God… even if it's in this shitty state, I'm glad he's still alive. I just want him to stay alive. It's a selfish request, but I fucking hope that he's willing to indulge it.

"I know you're in pain, but we need to move. There's no way the Covenant are gonna be nice enough to let us-" in a moment's notice, an ear shattering scream emanates from the sky above us. Two or three screams, to be exact. I bring my eyes up immediately to see three purple blurs pass over head, blue air streaks being left to mark their presence. Logic only says that it's the Covenant Air Force. Or whatever the fuck those alien bastards use. All that matters to me is whether or not we were seen. I scan the river bank to look for the DMR and find it muddied up in some grass some ten feet away from us, its scope glint being the only give away. After rummaging through Victor's pockets, I pull out one of his spare magazines and run over to the rifle, reloading it and cocking the weapon. Sand and dirt fell out of the chamber, but it otherwise seems functional. Throwing the strap around me and flinging the rifle behind me, I run over to Victor and begin to lift him up onto my shoulder. He groans as he rises slowly, his arms and legs quivering due to the strain until most of his weight falls upon me.

For at least a dozen steps I am able to adequately support Victor on my arm, but he becomes unable to walk on his own. He falls onto the floor causing me to curse to myself, kneeling down to pick him up.

"Vic, c'mon man. Stop screwing around, we need to get out of here." My lips withdraw at the sight of his limp and weak body. It lays there curled on the floor, pale and profusely moist from sweat and some blood. I refuse to see him like this. I lift him up onto my back and begin to give him a piggy back ride, my hands supporting his buttocks while his chest rests on my back, his arms flailing on the sides. His head rests on my shoulder allowing me to hear his strained and rugged breath, the sound of it both reassuring and disheartening at the same time. The weight I carry now will definitely do a number on my legs, but this is the only option I have left. Taking in a deep breath, I heave forward and begin walking. Even after only several dozen steps I can feel my legs burning, the burden of Victor's weight already giving me a tough time. As I trek through the forest alongside the river I do my best to walk along declines in the path, giving my legs even just a moments worth of relief. Sweat pouring from my forehead begins to sting my eyes, but it didn't matter to me. Victor was in no condition to walk on his own and I didn't plan to leave him alone.

After an hour my pace has slowed down now, settling down to eight or nine steps every minute. It hurt, but it wasn't much compared to an assortment of many other things I've been through. Victor and I, we've been through worse. Something like this wouldn't end us. Sarge worked us harder than any CO I'd ever met, so the shit we've been going through… a cake walk. That's what this is. Victor's always been stronger than me, so he'll make it through this. He has to, or he'd never forgive himself, not while Hitch hasn't been properly avenged. He needs to kill a few more Covenant bastards before he's allowed to drop, that's just how he works.

"Hey… hey Vic. Remember back at the base… when Hitch got toilet duty for a week… because he spilled coffee all over Sarge's dick?" I wheeze out a chuckle as I speak, still forcing myself to move forward. Victor releases a few quick bursts of air out his nostrils, a sign of his humor being wrought out. I smile at this and move a little faster this time.

"And, and how we would always fuck up the toilets just to screw with him?" Again, air blew out his nostrils. The warmth and cooling of his breath gives me a rhythm to follow, warm being the right foot and cold being the left foot. Following this pattern and using small talk, I manage to keep my mind off the pain in my legs. For an hour I keep the conversation going. Ones reminiscing about our time back at the base, or complaining about my family back on Earth, or talking about old flames. Pointless and stupid things, memories to share with him. Things to look back on so that when we get back into our barracks we can talk about how stupid I sounded. About how desperate I was. About how shitty I would feel.

Left. Right. Left. Right. The rhythm has now become automated, the feeling of his breath becoming irrelevant. The DMR behind me has now left the backs of my thighs sore from being bounced back and forth between each step. It throbs but it won't stop me from getting to the outpost. There we can find medicine to fix up Victor.

"Hey… we're almost there Vic, I can feel it. Just bear with it a little longer…" I choke the words out of my dry throat as I see the end of the river flowing into a mangrove, signaling the sight of the ocean ahead. I smile at the sight, partially relieved that the outpost may actually be closer now. I pick up the pace in order to reach the beach head. When I exit the forest the sun beats down on my sweating body while the ocean breeze cools it off. I scan left and right, finding no sign of life. With little after thought, I begin to follow the beach south ward, ready to find the outpost that's been so damned important to us.

"Look Vic… the beach… maybe we should stop for a little swim?" I chuckle softly, staring down at the sand around my boots, each movement forward leaving a dragging trail behind us. As I trudge forward I stare off into the ocean waters, mesmerized by the rolling waves. In and out, in and out, the white bubbles come and go, leaving me in a trance of thoughtless motion. Every step becomes light, as if the burdens I've been carrying for so long are being lifted off both my shoulders and legs.

"I think… I think we're gonna make it…" I say quietly. But no response. I can't even feel his breath on my neck anymore. My heart begins to throb as I halt in the sand, all the feeling returning to my body.

"Vic… hey buddy, c'mon wake up." My voice cracks pleadingly as I shake him on my back, his arms moving aimlessly. Lifelessly.

"No, no, please. Wake up. We're almost there." Sweat begins to bead on my forehead as I lower myself into the sand, the weight of Victor becoming heavier than it's ever been before. I could feel knots form in my chest and throat as dark thoughts cloud my mind. They tighten as every second passes, forcing tears out of my eyes and drool out of my mouth. I can feel my body quiver in place as I sob in place but I can hear nothing. Not the sound of my own voice, not the rolling waves to the left and not the howls of the flowing wind. It is a deafening and destructive silence and wrought out a pain in my chest that was incomparable to anything I'd felt this entire operation.

"Victor… please…" I manage to squeak out once more. Nothing again. I release my hold on his legs and let him fall into the sand. His body was there, but Victor was not. For the first time in a long time, I am finally alone. The though nauseated me to a crippling state. As I turn around to inspect his body, I see a pale and lifeless corpse splayed out onto the sand behind me, a marionette of death beckoning every despairing emotion it could out of me. The sight of it forces me to vomit, the first time in a long time I would be vomiting at the sight of a dead body. Oddly enough, the burning of the acid in my throat and mouth gave me some kind of twisted warmth and relief. It was like releasing the grief within me, but this feeling didn't last long. After staring at him for only a minute I bury my face into the sound and begin screaming at the top of my lungs, sand sticking around my eyes due to the sweat and tears. My screaming allows sand into my mouth, but I don't care. I just want to die. This loneliness, this isolation. I haven't felt this in a long time, but I have felt it many times before. And every time I want death to engulf me.

" _ **GOD DAMN IT**_ **. IT'S ME EVERY TIME** ," I shout as loud as I can, rearing backwards and lifting my head to the sky, "Just _kill_ me. Someone. Anyone. Please." I say these words but I know that I don't speak the complete truth. While death sounds like a sweet relief, something inside me wants me to stay alive. I wouldn't call it hope. No, nothing sanguine like that. It is an instinctive and primal drive that forces me to stay alive, and I don't like it. The sight of the sky is red to me now even though it was clearly blue only moments ago. I bring my view down onto Victor one last time, sickened and saddened once more at the sight. My eyes examine the lifeless visage, the edges of my sight blackening and tunneling the image into my mind. It burns deep, imprinting the disgust I feel for myself as well as the grief that consumes me. The sight of Victor reminds me of my many other operations, the death of innocents and comrades. The feeling welled up inside, disabling my motion, locking me in place as if to eternally punish me. Is this my fault? Have I been acting irresponsibly as a leader? What right do I have, making us complete a mission that seemed futile from the beginning… and now look where it's gotten us. All of us. It's always been like this. I guess every time I go on a mission I'm hoping I get killed in action. But some cruel fate keeps me the fuck alive. And this is the price others pay for associating with me. God dammit. God. Fucking. Dammit. This is my fault. It's always been my fault, I should have resigned a long time ago. Then maybe Hitch and Victor would be alive right now. I'm sure they deserve it more than myself. I close my eyes and fall backwards into the sand, falling into a deep but restless sleep.


	11. Chapter 12

Hey there! It's your author again. Stat-rep: I'm in school at the time of posting this chapter so writing has been limited for me. But alas, here is another chapter for you. Again, I want to thank anyone who has made it this far, you have my undying gratitude. Any feedback you may have left is appreciated and any feedback you'd like to make is entirely welcomed. Expect the story to end soon though! How soon? And how will it end? Follow up to find out!

Another note, I plan to be writing another story soon, and it may or may not be fan fiction. If you're interested in what it is, go ahead and PM me to update when I post the first chapter/prologue.

Thanks for everything, readers!

\- Yours author, **TheFreak1407**

* * *

 **12**

Time passes at an immeasurable speed when you don't want to wake up. Like wanting to stay in bed after waking up in the morning, no clock or device around to let you know what part of the day you have already missed. Allowing yourself to go limp after some kind of exhausting activity, staying on the floor trying to re-energize your body because it just can't move anymore. Or better yet, when your mind enters a blank slate and all one can "see" in their head is nothing but a pitch black abyss. An endless void where one cannot think, where you can't reminisce the past or plan the future. For some, like myself, this is the best way to deal with things. To shut down and stop feeling, to forget things in some sort of irresponsible sense. Entering the blank state is like bandaging a profusely bleeding wound; it will appear to be okay for only a moment but the blood will eventually rise through the white gauze and reveal just how dire things are. In my case, it's like waking up from restless sleep and brought into a reality that is more like a nightmare. In my mind, the void is my solace. My escape. My painkiller. Returning to consciousness is like asking to be hurt again, with a guarantee slapped onto the package. As I stare into the darkness that only I can see, I always keep silent. No thoughts or worries, just what is blank. But even as I lie in wait, I know this will not last forever. It never does. Because I am the Corporal. The Corporal. Corporal. Corporal.

"Corporal! Corporal! Wake up! _WAKE UP!_ " A familiar and feminine voice shouts to me as consciousness returns to my head. My eyes are still closed, tightly it feels like. Not from puss but from dryness, sand caking my face, I can feel, as I bring my arms up. Wiping the sand from my face it feels as though it has hardened over time. As I come round I can feel that my legs are ubiquitously sore, every motion I attempt to make being answered with a punishing rip in the muscles. But that's the least of my worries… Victor. I fell asleep and left Victor all alone. These thoughts flooding my head, my eyes burst open with a painful stinging, a warm orange flash of light coming into focus. Shifting myself into an upright position I grab whatever is nearest to me, clutching what feels like a crusty coat, its comfort value having gone down due to inclement weather. As my sight cleans itself naturally, the blurriness sifting away slowly I can see that it is night time as the sky is completely dark. Looking at what I hold in my hands, my hand is holding on tightly to an ONI uniform, Miller's uniform to be exact. My eyes rise to her muddied face, revealing a more primal version of the Miller I had previously recognized. Her hair was tied back but much more ruffled and messy, the blonde color seemingly fading into a more dirty brown. Looking past her I see that Myra is sitting silently next to a fire that they had produced, its light showing very little details in the environment around us; some brush sits in bundles at the bases of some large trees. Everything else is mostly obscure at the moment, the finer details not apparent to me. Finally, I bring myself to face Miller.

"Vic, where's Vic? Last I remember…" I fumble while taking in a breath, "… Last I remember is that I fell unconscious. Where is Victor? Tell me. Tell me now!" I shake her as I speak, her face already revealing the answer I didn't want to hear. Her green eyes make their way to the ground left of her, breaking any form of eye contact. Her lips suck inward as she places both her hands gently on the one gripping her coat. She closes her eyes for a moment then returns my gaze with her own, mine with conviction, hers with pity.

"Corporal… I'm sorry. When we found you… he was already dead. We were surprised to find that you were even alive." Her eye brows sink lower as she speaks, tightened cheeks as well as quivering lips. Everything around her becomes black, as if it were only Miller and I sitting alone in a dark void. It couldn't process. It wouldn't process. I remember now, my angered fit on the beach. No, it can't be. He wouldn't die, not like that.

"Please… don't lie to me. Where is he Miller?" My grip tightens as I bring my forehead into her chest. I can feel my body tighten, but no tears can come forth. My eyes only sting as I stare at the floor. I've become so dehydrated that I can't even properly mourn for my friend anymore. It's a debilitating and destructive feeling. Anger and grief aren't even present anymore, it's just pure and utter frustration.

A cold hand brings itself atop the back of my head, offering some form of relief that I can't bring myself to understand how. It just does. I sit silently with Miller with what seems like an eternity before she moves, lifting me up gently into a standing position.

"It's been a day since you were out Corporal. You were completely dehydrated since we found you, we've managed to nurse you back into a poor state of health with what little supplies we had left." She helps me over to the fire, my own legs barely supporting my body as I limp. I can feel myself wanting to collapse onto the floor with every motion. On top of that it feels like my temperature has spiked, explaining a lot of my sweat. As we get to the fire Myra looks up at me, smiling pitifully. I return it with a weak wave and let myself down to the left of the fire, Miller going back around to plant herself on the right. Minutes that feel like hours pass as we sit in wait for someone to break the silence. None of us can muster the courage to say anything for an agonizing amount of time. My chest tightens and lips quiver as I process my thoughts, the images and words in my head slowly muddling up as I try to think things through properly. Eventually I stop thinking about anything but how shitty I feel.

"Yeah. I can feel it, I'm in a really shit condition right now… but more importantly how are you two doing? We got separated after falling into the water." Now sitting in a semi-comfortable position I get a better look at both of them. Myra was setup in a very protective posture, arms hugging her knees, head lowered into the shell, her eyes looking at me. Miller sat cross legged across from me, her arms supporting her from behind as she leans back. All things considered, and there is a shit ton to consider, they could be worse. Myra lifts her head to speak.

"We landed further down the river Corporal. Much further." She looks to Miller, Miller nodding in confirmation.

"Yes, that's correct. What probably took you an hour or two to cover, we had already made it very close to the beach head. After trekking down for a while, we set up here, in hopes of seeing you. If Myra hadn't gone out to scavenge, we probably wouldn't have found you." She waves her hand towards Myra as she presents that Myra was technically my savior. I thank her with a weak smile.

"Good girl… but our situation remains the same, if not worse…" I stare into the fire grimly.

"Well… depending on how you look at it, that may or may not be true." Miller's voice has a quizzical tone to it, prompting me to ask a question. She shifts into a forward leaning position, as if she wants to tell some kind of gossip based secret.

"Okay… I'll bite. Whaddya got for us Miller?" I lean in as well, her face dimming in and out of sight due to the flicker of the flames.

"The best of the good news I can give is this: as far as I can tell the covenant is not aware of our presence," her face morphs from informative to a more concerned visage, "even though we are only a few clicks away from the outpost." As she finishes heat flashes into my face, the word outpost slamming into me like a tank.

"What the fuck did you just say?" Sweat dribbles down the right side of my face.

"Exactly what you heard. The outpost we've been searching for is only four or five kilometers off, sitting atop a rocky peninsula. I scouted it yesterday. When I came back, that's when Myra had returned with you." Myra turns to me and nods in concurrence.

"Holy shit… so we're this close… what about the Covenant?" I cough as I sputter out my words.

"That's one of two problems, aside from the geographical advantage. When I got there, two Covenant dropships flew overhead and hovered over the helipads there, a few elites, several jackals and a lot of grunts came off the ship, all of them well armed. And that was to bolster the forces that were already there."

"Ah fuck. Not even ten minutes and things seem like they've already gone to shit," I ponder our options for a few seconds then return to Miller, "and the other problem?"

"Our available equipment and provisions. After our fall into the river I lost the assault rifle but miraculously was able to find a washed up knife, it's probably yours in fact." She ruffles through her pockets and reveals a knife from her right pants pocket, bringing it up over the flame and handing it to me handle forward. I lean over and grab it, examining it closely. As far as I could tell it was just a standard combat knife, serrated back and a solid edge for the long side of the southern face. It could have belonged to anybody, really, but since I was the last one to have held the blade it probably was mine. I hand it back to her.

"What about the DMR I was carrying?" In response to this, Myra leans to her left and pulls out the rifle from under a bush, revealing two magazines as well. She places them carefully at my side and retreats into her original sitting position, this time sitting a little closer to me this time.

"The DMR and this knife is all we carry in terms of weaponry. We have literally no provisions other than some fruit we managed to find out in the forest, but it is no meal." I grit my teeth, realizing that there was no possible way to get to the outpost without placing ourselves into a brutally fucked up situation. Going in there with what we have now is not even worthy of the metaphor "bringing a knife to a gun-fight". We'd be insulting the knife.

"Well then… what about reinforcements? We've been out for at least four days, they have to send someone." I look at Miller, seeking some type of reconciliation. She does not give me what I want.

"As far as your Commander Hayward is concerned, this is an ONI controlled operation, any action he takes without advisory from either me _or_ your sergeant is against his orders. A direct report from this platoon, or what's left of it, is required for him to respond. In short, we can't expect any help from HQ." She shakes her head as she speaks, tapping away at the floor vigorously with her fingers showing both anxiety and frustration. She curls her lips inward and begins to stare into the fire. My stomach churns and growls, a response to both the hunger I've been bearing and the bewilderment that our current situation has evoked. She basically said that it's do or die for us, the latter being the most probable of the two. And the way I see it there really is only one option and that is to go in. We'll probably die out here long before reinforcements are sent purely out of concern, if they care in the first place. But God damn there is nothing in our favor, at least not as far as I can tell. The Covenant forces already posted out there have a vantage point over us, and are armed to the teeth. They're surrounded by water with the exception of the shallow "path" that leads to the front of the outpost. Aside from that I also don't know anything about the layout of the base itself…

"What can you tell us about its design?" Miller stares at me blankly before responding.

"Err… uhh, okay. Ahem. Well, it has a four tier design, the first tier being ground level. That's a majority of the compound," she begins to flatten her hands out and pantomime the design in front of us, trying to draw the picture out in midair, "and two levels upward. The first tier sits along the entirety of the rocky plateau that stands a good twenty or thirty feet above the water level. Basically natural defenses surround the entire post except for the rear end. The outpost is approximately 12000 square feet in size, about the size of an elementary school, most of which is the first level."

"That rear end location, why is it the only portion that the rocks don't cover?" I ask.

"That's the fourth level, technically, it goes underneath the base itself. It acts as a storage area and has a small docking bay for small marine vessels." She creates a roof like structure with her hands and splays out her right hand within the inside of the design, mimicking her words.

"Storage area… weapons could be in there… and the other two levels?" Although it is miniscule, a bit of excitement manages to take a rise in me, a small glimmer of hope for us. It is immediately brushed out by a panging throb that invades my head every few minutes. It seems as though a fever has come to fuck me up as well.

"The first of the upper levels is a combination of the barracks and medical center. You have to go through that building in order to gain access to the third and final tier: the command and communications center." She motions her hands to form a building on one side then draws what looks like a bridge to another, the other building being a much taller structure.

"Why do we need to go through the barracks, there's no ground level access to the comm deck?" When I finish speaking, Miller shakes her head in response, waving her hands back and forth in a "no-can-do" motion.

"Its design is based on heliport and airway direction communication buildings, ground access isn't implemented to prevent unnecessary personnel from wandering in. It's impractical, I know, but it's what we're going to have to deal with. Plus, we have one more problem."

"What is it this time?" I rub my temple in a futile effort to relieve myself of more exasperation.

"The power systems have been, from my distant observations, terminated. There were no operating lights. So no power means no communication."

"No backup generator for the array?"

"Not according to the plans. This outpost is of old design, it was only requisitioned by the UNSC recently, and it's not military built. The communication assets were placed there separately."

"Well shit. It's like the universe stopped knowing how to give people a God damn break…" I drag my fingers through the dirt for a few moments, trying to process all the information given to me. From what she has told me, our best bet of getting into the base is through the docking bay in the lower levels of the ship but swimming there will be no easy feat, especially in my sodding condition. Infiltration from any other point has proven too dangerous on all fronts. And we're only three soldiers with so little equipment. Ach! Why does it have to be like this?

I bring my eyes up to Myra and see that she is morbid in her state of fear. Her eyes are pinned to the fire but the grip she has on her arms as they wrap around her legs is knuckle whitening. Her body jolts momentarily here and there as I examine her, as if she was shivering from a cold chill. Just by looking at her you could see that she was at breaking point, if not as fragile as thin glass already. Anything could tip her right over to the brink of insanity, it feels, and this "operation" could very well destroy what little stability she has. The things she's gone through these past few days is crudely surreal, experiences that even I couldn't imagine. And here I am, deciding how the fuck we were gonna storm the base… looking at her it was like looking at my own daughter. Of course, I've never had a kid in my life, but if there is a moment in my life where I could relate to any father, it would be now. Looking at her, so fragile and vulnerable at this moment, I feel like I can't let anything happen to her. And if I am to be honest with myself, this is not a common occurrence. In my times with Black Ops I had put those feelings away to feel less responsible for the blood on my hands. But with this, this selfish feeling towards Myra, I feel like I can repay all those lives. This is stupid, of course, but it's for my own sake. And God forbid for hers as well. I refuse to let her die. Fuck it, Miller too. No more deaths, not while I can still walk. Oh what a shitty resolve this is but if there is a more appropriate time to feel this way someone tell me. This is all I have left.

"Look… we'll get up right before sun rise. I want to test the current. You said that the base is a couple kilos off from here right? We'll use that to our advantage." I lift myself up, wobbling in my rise, and get into a standing position. The way up forces a grunt out of me, a response to the endearing pain that shoots through my legs with every whisper of movement. I begin to hobble towards the other end of our "camp" in order to find a cooler patch of dirt to lie on. The heat from the fire was for my body to re-stabilize if anything, but I feel light headed from it now. About midway to my intended spot a head pokes under my left arm and plants it firmly under me, another arm coming around the broad side of my shoulders. Looking down I see that Myra has taken on the burden of helping me walk.

"No, it's fine Myra…" I try to shake her off but she holds tightly onto my clothes.

"Please, Corporal… just let me help." Her eyes keep forward as she speaks, her body vigilantly supporting mine as we walk. Seeing as she will give me no opportunity to refuse, I allow her to guide me to my destination, which happens to be just another tree. When she places me against the base of the tree she finds her own spot across from me and plants herself on the floor in a basic resting position; her legs crossed on the floor while she hunches over them. The only light available to us is patches of moonlight peering through the canopy above us, the campfire now a considerable distance away as it now only has minimal effect, a slight tinge of orange on our skin, fading in and out in rhythm with the waving of the flames. Looking at her in this light I see that much of her features are now obscure, the top of her head, shoulders and knees being the only things easily identifiable. She raises her head up, the moon revealing her face which is blemished with dirt and blood. Her eyes water as she looks at me. We hold each other's gaze for several moments until she finally speaks.

"Corporal… I'm so sorry…" She murmurs, the words barely reaching my ears, but resonant enough to sting my heart. For what? I wonder.

"You've nothing to be sorry about kid…" I respond, my voice tired and grumbly from the earlier exchanges.

"Yes… I do. For your losses. I can't even begin to understand what you're going through… but even worse… because…" Her breath becomes rigid as she talks.

"Because?" I ask hoarsely.

"Because I'm God damn useless Corporal… during this entire mission… everyone's been dying. I've been getting thrown around. _You're_ suffering there alone and… I haven't done a single thing!" Her voice is cracking now, her head lowered and hands on the floor as if she is bowing down to me. The sight is pitiful to me but it also wrought out… anger.

"Myra… get up…" I begin, but her voice is drowning out my own.

"I'm just useless… I should've died back there, not Victor. Fucking hell, sir. I can't do anything."

"Myra."

"I shouldn't have joined… not if I'm like this…"

"Myra!"

"The platoon deserved better. I deserve to _die_." That final word brought me forth, dashing to her, grabbing the back of her head and bringing her face to the moonlight. Rearing my right hand behind me I slam it right into Myra's left cheek, leaving her on the ground cupping the side of her face. Steam exerting from my nostrils, I stand over her, ignoring the pain and with my arms to my sides.

"Corporal what are you-" Miller begins to run over but I put my hand out in her direction, ordering her to stop. When I bring my head around to reinforce my demand, she reluctantly stops in place and stands where she is, glancing over at Myra then me in a repeating back and forth pattern. I turn to Myra and see she is just as stunned, looking up at me with widened eyes.

"Myra, you're a good soldier. Get your God damn fucking act together. This is your first operation, not a single man on this planet could have predicted that you'd be sent straight into _hell_. You've managed to keep yourself headstrong for this long, don't you dare shut down on me, not after what you said to Victor." I walk over to Myra and grab her by the collar, pressing my finger into her cheek.

"The UNSC bred us to _fight_. So that's what you, _me_ and even Miller," I glance over at Miller, an eye roll given as response, "are going to do. If we stop now, we fail everyone that died to get us this far." I look at her eyes with a convicting intent. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Holding onto her I can feel the weight in my hand begin to lighten, her body beginning to slowly support itself.

"But… sir…"

"Don't give me that shit Myra. Not for one second." I look deeper into her eyes, as if I was burning her soul with guilt and conviction. Looking at her, I can't help but be reminded of every moment I told myself that it would be easier to give up, to just die. And for every moment I did I refused to give in, because if I had then I would deserve no place among my squad. Among any of the units I was in.

"It's too hard… it's too hard Corporal…" Her weight shifts downward again but I react with upward force, jerking her upward. She buckles for a second but balances herself, then placing her hands atop my own, her forehead acting as the final top layer. I see the sides of her eyes crease, a result of the tightening of her eyelids. She takes a sharp breath inward then, holding it in for a single moment. Only seconds later I see liquid streaming down her hands as she tightens her grasp around my own. It isn't long until she has broken down into a simple sob, her shoulders shrugging up and down in random intervals as her breathing becomes erratic. I free my right hand from the bundle we created and place it on the back of her head, gently bringing her face into my chest. Wrought with anger, frustration and grief, she begins to scream into my bosom, the sound muffled lightly.

"Waaaahh! Waaaahhh-ha-haaah!" Lightly she rears back her right hand and slams it into my arm repeatedly, venting herself in a physical medium rather than vocal. The wailing and beating continues for at least a minute, making my already aching arm even sorer, but it didn't matter. This is something that every soldier needs. A release. A vent. What many people don't realize about soldiers is that were trained to suppress emotion in high-stress situations. This is an effective tactic to keep men and women on the field calm, but it eventually backfires. PTSD, schizophrenia, insomnia and insanity; these are all possible results of extreme emotional suppression. If there is any one way to help a soldier who's in need of help, it's to let them release.

"Shhh-shhh, it's okay girl… it's okay…" I tap her head gently as she continues her fit, closing my own eyes to let the time pass. It doesn't take long for her to calm down into a subtle sob, a fit of breathing that she will eventually control. It's not until I feel virtually no weight in my hand that she places her right hand atop mine and taps it. Promptly I release it and take a few steps back. Myra brings herself into a full standing marine posture, wiping her face and sniffling a couple times, then begins to face my direction. Looking at me, she brings her right hand to her forehead in an honoring salute.

"The last thing on our to-do list is surrender, sir." She holds her position, looking off into the distance behind me. This time, however, her face has a stern look on it. Her eyebrows are softened but hard in their position. Her lips retain their place, the quiver she had originally been ailed with gone. But her eyes, her usually plain brown eyes have a sort of newly found vigor to them. She was no new super soldier by any stretch of the imagination, but it was clear that something different, something good, had come over her.

"At ease kid. That's the only thing I had to say to you… go get some rest." With those final words, Miller extinguishes the fire and everything goes dark. All that is left in my vision is small patches of lunar light.

* * *

A cold breeze brushes against my dry face, the sting of salt against my eyes as I scan the dark blue waters that span the ocean of Reach. Daybreak is just occurring, it's probably going to hit 0600 in a quarter of an hour. The environment around me is encompassed in a misty blue tinge, a sight reminiscent of many people who've experienced camping. It's a familiar feeling all around me, not of my childhood but of my experiences in ONI Black Ops. Most specifically is my time in the aquatics division on Alcion VI. Of the many things I learned from there it was three things: 1. Water is cold in the ocean, no matter what. 2. Never use thrown explosives underwater unless you _know_ you will be safe. And 3. To use the tides to our advantage.

Whirlpools, high-tide, low-tide, waves from a cruise liner, it doesn't matter what it is, natural motion in the waters is motion to be used. We were deployed in five man teams, an insertion and elimination branch meant for covert operations. Unlike my other positions, this was the quietest unit I was assigned to. Why? Because my captain got things done quick and clean. But slow.

The device we used for under water reconnaissance and operations were Shark Suits, Mk. IV, amphibious half-plate ballistic and aerodynamic armor designed to allow for fish like mobility under water and unmatched projectile defense on the surface. The plate armor was designed with a three-tier lightweight design, carbon-fiber on the top, aero-gel on the second and imported tight-weave Kevlar matting. The user interface used ONI's satellite AI and A-Class information access. On top of all that it came with a pneumatic propulsion system and oxygenated replenishment drive that could support the user for up to twelve hours. All this amazing equipment to our disposal and our captain made sure we didn't use _any_ of it. At least not for a majority of the mission.

Three days before mission time my captain would take the time to wade and swim the waters that were within the vicinity of our mission location in order to get a "feel" for the waters. Now for three months I thought this was total bullshit, but that was until I realized what it was that he was doing. On every mission we would go 50 meters below surface and deactivate all systems except for the life-support. This basically made us completely invisible to most sensors, even temperature detection since the suits own tech and the 50 meter layer of water between us and it kept us hidden. The three days before the mission was used to determine the nature of the tides. To understand the motion. It was always on the third day that captain would determine point of insertion, where we would literally float to the target zone. Only then was it that we would reactivate all systems to complete the mission. Of course it wasn't always like this, sometimes we had targets smack dab in the middle of the ocean, but that couldn't be helped. Lesson learned, it's time for me to repeat this process.

Fifteen minutes have passed since I recollected my experiences, so 0600 has just about hit. Light is barely cutting above the horizon, the sun hinting its approach. I look behind me and see a gradient of color, dark brown starting from my position and gradually becoming lighter and lighter until it's basically white as the beach approaches the forest line. I'm at the base time of Reach's low-tide on the east coast, the exact time I'm looking for. I begin to make my way into the water, the iciness sending a chilling shock up my leg. I grit my teeth and clench my fists as I get deeper and deeper into the water. As I get waist deep I can feel my balls shrink into my stomach, reverting me from man to woman in seconds. Unlike now, we had wetsuits in the aquatics division, a commodity that would be heavily appreciated as of right now.

By the time I reach neck deep water I become completely acclimated, at least as best as my body will allow. A sort of raw soreness invades my throat as the contrasting cold surrounds it, evoking a hoarse cough out of me. I stay still for a few minutes, attempting to stabilize myself in the water. Soon after I begin to swim farther out, maybe a good thirty to forty meters until I can barely hold my self above the surface. I catch my breath and let the waves carry me for several minutes, my internal gyroscope keeping me steady but also giving me a basic sense of motion. The waves return to the shore, yes, but steadily approach southward. Considering the hemisphere and temperature behaviors further north, this makes sense. It gets warmer as you travel south so the waters will be in our favor by mid-day where the waves and under-tides will whirl counter-clockwise. But that has yet to be confirmed.

Taking in a heave of deep breath, I plunge myself downward and begin to let myself sink, counting down. According to my captain this is an essential part of the process… 1… 2… 3… 4… descending at around a meter per second… 9… 10… thirty meters down I hold, waving my arms. Seconds pass, I can feel my lungs tighten… then finally I feel the brush. It pushes southward, only slightly, but enough to be noticeable. I immediately begin to swim upward to resurface. It's a terrible bearing on how to devise a plan, but it's all I got.


End file.
